Once Upon a Frozen Lasagna
by roxmysox55
Summary: Cyndi was just a normal girl with aspirations to be a chef living with her caterer father her mother joined the Peace Corps. But then he married that sort of creepy German lady. And things just went downhill from there. Cinderella Retelling.
1. The Fuchses

_A/N: Rewrite of Cinderella Retelling, previously posted under the pen name _Annabelle Walls.

**Once Upon a Frozen Lasagna**

_Chapter One: _**The Fuchses**

Once upon a time there was a catering business called Bob's Best Caterers and it was the best catering business in town; everyone knew it and my dad owned it. It wasn't just rigatoni pasta with sauce, fried chicken, and ice cube lettuce drowned in Italian dressing. My dad made everything from French pastries to foot-long subs. He catered to every occasion from weddings to bar mitzvahs. He could cook Greek food, Italian food, Mexican food, American food, and everything else in-between. There weren't many other caterers around because nobody could compete with Bob Moretti.

I'd always wanted to help my dad with the business. I could just picture myself at some fancy royal dinner party or at a presidential inaugural ball handing the guest of honor his plate of smoked salmon with lemon sauce. As far as I was concerned, it was just as much my destiny as it was my father's. The first time I tried, at my dad's friend's parents' fiftieth anniversary luncheon, I spilt spaghetti all over the linoleum floors in the hotel lobby and Dad didn't let me come back. He said the legal working age didn't matter so much with family businesses, but I was just too young. That was three years ago. I figured I was ready now.

I helped Jimmy and Beth set up three long tables and place silky white tablecloths over them. Then we took in four metal trays and lifted the lids off. Cheese enchiladas. Tamales. Bean burritos. Chicken tacos. Everything smelled delicious. We put stacks of plates, napkins, and sliver wear at one end of the table (none of those foam plates or plastic forks, of course) and coffee and punch with mugs and glasses at the other end. Another small table had a three layer chocolate cake with chocolate frosting that read Feliz Quincea-era, Ariana. You knew you had a good deal when the caterer also brought the birthday cake.

The reason I remember Ariana Lopez's Quincea-era isn't simply because it was the first time I proved myself as a caterer, though it was very rewarding to put that spaghetti incident behind me forever. The real significance of that night is what happened _after_ all the food had been reduced to crumbs. Once Beth, Jimmy, and I had folded the tables, closed the trays, and loaded it all up in the catering van, Dad pulled me aside. "There's someone I want you to meet," he said, leading me towards the museum kitchen. I knew that saying. It was the saying moms and dads always used in books, movies, and TV shows when they wanted their children to meet their potential future spouses. The words were directed at me so rarely that I had forgotten the tone of Dad's voice in-between them. He hadn't married since Mom left us to join the Peace Corps twelve years ago and in those twelve years he'd only dated three women: Loretta, Naomi, and Hanna, none of which he'd gone out with for more than a month. Needless to say, he hadn't popped the question and, in my opinion, there wasn't much there to cause me any worry. Brides, old ladies at church gatherings, and fat museum cafeteria cooks, the only women he was likely to meet in the catering business, didn't seem to pose much of a threat. So I was a little nervous at most, not worried. After I'd seen the woman on a few occasions, Dad would come home and say they'd broken up, no hard feelings, and that would be the end of it. I had no reason to believe this would be any different.

"'S_omeone_'?" I asked, imitating his voice.

He smiled and opened the kitchen door. A woman stood there, dressed in a floral, knee length dress. She was tall, heavy, and had short, curly blond hair. The woman wasn't attractive by any means, but I wasn't judgmental. There was probably a beauty and warmth inside her that had pulled my father to her. Or so I hoped. She held out a chubby hand for me to shake. "Nice to meet you," she said with a heavy German accent. "I'm Hedwig Fuchs."

I struggled not to burst into laughter. Fuchs. Both Dad and Hedwig had straight faces, though, so I did my best to contain myself. "Cyndi," I said, returning the gesture. "Cyndi Moretti."

"I know. Your father's talked and talked about you." She smiled. "I have two daughters, just a bit older than you. Heike is twenty and Elfie is nineteen. You can be good friends."

This was new. Dad had never dated anyone with kids before. He put his arm around her shoulder. "And we've got news," he announced, sharing a secret smile with Hedwig.

I knew that saying too. All too well.

**BREAK**

Rain pelted the windows on the ride home. The silence in my father's car was almost unbearable, broken only by an occasional roar of thunder. However, the one thing that would have been more unbearable than the uncomfortable silence, was actually speaking. Dad had just finished his sentence before I ran through the swinging kitchen doors, through the dining hall, past the entrance to the Ancient Egyptian exhibit, through the Asian Art room, and out into the parking lot. I didn't know if my dad was following me out into the rain, but I also didn't know if I wanted him to be. I stood outside waiting until my hoodie was soaked through. Then Dad came out, glanced at me ever so slightly, and walked to the car. I followed him uneasily, without uttering a word. Nobody could blame us for not knowing what to say, especially since I don't always know the right thing to say in a good situation.

Finally, two blocks from the house, Dad turned on the heat and pasted a smile on his face. "Brrr," he said, laughing anxiously. "It'll be winter soon."I was shivering, but I said nothing.

"You know, Cyndi, I was hoping you'd let me get through the rest of that story before you fled off to God knows where."

He changed the speed of the windshield wipers. I said nothing.

"Hedwig and I spent an awful long time searching for you in that museum. We thought you had more sense than to run out in the rain, so we didn't bother to check outside for a while."

I couldn't stand how many times he'd used the word "we". How long had Hedwig and my dad been one subject? How did "I" become "we" in a matter of minutes? "You know, you have to say something sometime."

I thought about monks that take vows of silence and go their whole lives without saying anything. Was I willing to do that? If it would stop Dad from marrying her. _Would it?_

"Come on, I know you have questions."

I had too many questions to count. Maybe I had a million or even a billion. I sighed. "You never said anything," I muttered. I knew it wasn't really a question, but it would do.

He nodded. "I was afraid to," he admitted.

"Afraid of what?"

"I don't know. A lot of things, I guess. Maybe that I'd jinx it." Instead of turning at our street, he made a U-turn, heading back the way we came. He planned on making up for lost time by driving around.

I sat up straighter, preparing for a long, complicated conversation by straightening my spine. "Jinx what?"

"We met over the internet. It wasn't an online dating service or anything; I wasn't _that_ desperate. Karen Folster, from the catering business, was in Germany five months ago visiting some relatives, and she ran into her second cousin Hedwig. Karen sent me an e-mail that said we should really think about hooking up and gave me her e-mail address. I wasn't opposed to the idea, so I sent her an e-mail. She sent me one back, and before I knew it, we were e-mailing each other every day. People always say that those relationships never work out, so I never bragged about how well it was going, just in case."

"What about me, though?"

"Well, that wasn't my fault. You see, I was going to tell you, any day now, but then she sent me an e-mail saying she was moving to the States. Just like that. And she said if I wanted to meet her then I should feel free."

"But there's more to it than that," I interrupted. "There has to be. You're getting married."

He smiled. "Well, I told her about my catering gig at the museum tonight and since she would already be in this country, I said she should stop by. Once we were in the kitchen, she surprised me by getting down on one knee and…"

"_She_ proposed to _you_?"

"Yeah. No need to sound so old fashioned. It startled me, of course, but for some reason it just felt right. I said yes. I think we can make this work." He patted my knee. "With your help."

I studied him for a moment, seeing how happy he was. He looked anxious and excited for the first time in forever. If it took a sort of creepy German lady to make him happy, then I decided that was alright. "Weddings are fun," I told him, hoping that saying the words would convince myself it was the truth. If this is what he wanted, I would be supportive. Then I met The Sisters.

**BREAK **

Dad and I went to the continental breakfast at the hotel where the Fuchses were staying the next Saturday morning so I could meet her daughters Heike and Elfie. Heike was really tall, over six feet, I'm sure, with tight, short, frizzy blond curls like her mother's and was as Goth as she could be. She had on black pants, a black jacket, black shoes, and black makeup that were all different shades of black. Her clothes were three sizes too big and most likely from the men's department. Elfie was almost her polar opposite in every way, and in the ways she wasn't, she made up for it by trying to be. Her hair was bright red, almost orange (a color you could only get from a box), and straightened so that it hung down to her waist. She was short, plump, and her clothes were way too tight. Her shirt was bright yellow and said, "Hot Stuff" in big black bubble letters. She was wearing three layers of foundation, two coats of mascara, purple lipstick, and blue eye shadow, which no one who isn't a clown can pull off. It seemed to me that Heike was trying too hard to look unattractive and Elfie was trying too hard to look glamorous. Without their overstressed appearances, I figured they probably looked just like any normal teenage girls. I wondered if they'd just gone into a store after getting off the plane and put on the first things they could find. I decided not to worry about having forgotten to put on lip gloss.

The three Fuchses piled their plates with bacon, sausage, fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, and jelly filled Danishes. They stuffed their faces and then went back for more, barely stopping a second to breathe between mouthfuls. While Hedwig and Dad were getting more hash browns at the buffet, I ended up sitting alone with The Sisters. "So," Heike grunted with a mouth full of food, "heard of the band Verstorbene?"

"Uh…no."

"They're good. Borrow my CD." She reached into her purse and pulled it right out. I'd never met someone who carried their favorite album around in their purse, just in case they bumped into someone wanting to borrow it.

I turned the plastic case over in my hands and read the names of each song. There was a "_Schwä rze_," an "_Ich hoffe, dass Sie sterben_", an "_Ich hasse Sie_", and a "_Mein Leben ist dumm_", just to name a few. I don't know German, but those didn't sound like happy, loving your life sort of songs.

"Thanks," I said, and put it in my own purse, wondering if she would ever ask me if I'd listened to it.

"I have no intention of listening to any of _your_ CDs," Heike grunted. "Americans do not understand what good music is." Her voice was flat and monotone, with absolutely no emotion. "Mozart spoke German," Elfie piped up, proud to prove her sister was right about the quality of German music.

"Oh."

"He's like the best musician ever. Heard of him?" she continued.

"Have I ever heard of Mozart?" I repeated, unsure whether I should laugh or not.

Did they think I'd been living under a rock?

"That's what my little sister said, doofus!" Heike barked, pointing the prongs of her fork angrily at me from across the table.

I thought she might actually stab me with it, and leaned back in my seat.

She chuckled, satisfied with my reaction, and stuck it in her scrambled egg. "You may have to repeat things once or twice to this one," she whispered loudly to her sister. I wondered whether she knew I'd heard her or if she wanted me to hear. "She's slow."

Either way, her sister nodded comprehensibly, as though a light had suddenly gone on in her head. "Have…you…ever…heard…of…Mozart?" she asked slowly, the way one would to an old man who was hard of hearing or a two-year-old boy who didn't get it. _Or to herself_, I thought, stifling a giggle.

If I gave a sarcastic remark, which this conversation obviously deserved, would she stab me with her fork? Should I let them explain, in full depth, who the eighteenth century Austrian composer was instead? "I know who he is. Everyone in the world knows who he is. It's not like Amadeus Mozart is some weird German rock band." I decided on somewhere in-between.

"Can you scoot over, Cyn?" Dad asked. He was standing there, a plate of food in his hands, Hedwig behind him trying to balance three. Her face was aghast. He looked surprised and disappointed.

_Oh no_, I thought. _They heard what I said! But they didn't hear Heike and Elfie!_

No one said anything for the rest of the meal.

"First impressions are important, Cyndi," Dad said on the way home.

Knowing I should have feigned ignorance and asked them who Mozart was, I fiddled nervously with the seatbelt strap. "But they asked me if I knew who Mozart was, Dad."

"I don't care what they asked you! They're in a new country. People here speak a different language "

"They seemed to speak English pretty well to me."

"You're missing the point , Cyndi. They have an idea of America, having never been here, and they can't be expected to know these things. You promised to make this easy on me, Cynthia Ann, and you haven't been."

I wanted to remind him that it was one breakfast. I wanted to remind him that things were changing for me too, even though I hadn't moved to a different country where people didn't know who Mozart was. "I'm sorry, Dad," I said quietly. "I'll do better next time."

**BREAK**

"I'll tell you right now," said Hedwig when her and her daughters drove me to ballet practice, "that I don't run a taxi service. You or your dad can pay for this gas I'm wasting on you."

_He paid for this tank_, I thought. _It's his car. Yours is in Germany._

"Gas prices are huge," she continued.

"Yeah," said Elfie, who was sitting by her mom in the front seat. I was in the back seat next to Heike. "Because of global warning."

"Don't you mean global warming?" I asked.

Heike jabbed me with her elbow. "You correcting my little sister?"

Hedwig eyed us from her rearview mirror. "Be polite, Cyndi," she scolded. "I was kind enough to drop you off at your dance studio on the way to the mall. I can pull over on the side of the road and drop you off and you can walk the rest of the way, understand?"

Everyone says that. Dad used to say it when I changed the radio stations too much. Mrs. Hoffman, who I carpooled to school with, used to say it when I played with the automatic windows. Grandma, before she died, used to say it too. Of course, those people never had left me stranded on the side of road like a useless sack of potatoes. I was pretty sure Hedwig would. "Sorry," I muttered. Ever since Dad had gotten engaged, I'd been muttering apologies for a lot of things.

It had been two months since they'd announced their unexpected engagement, and I still wasn't used to Hedwig and The Sisters. Though they were always hanging out at my house, they actually lived in an apartment on Grand Street, where they were staying until the wedding. Then my father planned to buy a big two-story house for all of us somewhere downtown. The two lovebirds were always going down there to tour open houses after Dad got home from work. I guess they weren't too concerned about my opinion because they never asked me, or Heike and Elfie for that matter, to go with them. I didn't look forward to the day when we'd all live under the same roof. Whenever I went over to their apartment, I found it cluttered, messy, and smelly. Their three cats weren't trained and they left hair and droppings all over the place. After just a few months, they'd turned it into a pig's heaven.

Don't get me wrong, despite making excuses not to go over there as often as I could, I was really making an effort to like them. I made suggestions about the wedding all the time, as though I were looking forward to the event. I'd tried on the ridiculous bridesmaid dress that matched The Sisters' and called the florist to order the flowers. I'd toured churches with them, sampled wedding cakes with them, visited numerous reception halls with them, and listened to countless selections of boring classical masterpieces with them. I was so good at pretending to be excited about it that I nearly fooled myself.

Along with helping with the wedding, I'd listened to Heike's German rock band CDs with her. I didn't see how anyone who appreciated Mozart could enjoy it, but I pretended to. I also tried my very hardest not to lash out at Elfie when she asked me the dumbest questions and spoke slowly to make sure I comprehended every word she said. It took a lot more work to deal with Hedwig and her constant complaints, fits, and foul language, but I was confident that with a little more practice I might muster enough patience to do so.

As I struggled to get used to having the three of them in my life, I found that I often had to remind myself who I was doing it for. Mom left when I was three and I barely knew her, but what I'd picked up from my father was that she was spunky, bright, beautiful, and had an infectious passion for life, all the things Dad insisted I was but that I knew I wasn't. I'd once found a picture of my parents hidden in his desk drawer. They were at the Grand Canyon on their honeymoon, sitting on a picnic bench with a brilliant desert sunset behind them, smiling for all they worth. Mom's shining golden hair fell about her shoulders and my dad was wearing his ancient Yankees' baseball hat that was older than me. As they smiled their ecstatic smiles, it was obvious there was nowhere they would rather be than right in that moment, snuggled in each other's arms. There was an ache in my heart when I looked at it. I had never seen that twinkle in my father's eyes anywhere but in that picture. Whenever he smiled, I couldn't help but compare it with that one, and his smiles always came up short. Sitting in the backseat next to my evil stepsister, I remembered that photograph, where Dad looked happier than I'd ever seen him. Did I dare hope that one day he'd go on another honeymoon with Hedwig and smile that same smile? If that ever happened, this would all be worth it.

"Sorry," I said again, a little brighter this time. Remembering the hopeful outcome of my struggles always made me sit up a little straighter.

BREAK

A/N: Please review! This story is complete, but input is much appreciated!!

--roxmysox55


	2. Change of Plans

_A/N: Chapter Two. Hope you stuck around long enough to read it!_

**Once Upon a Frozen Lasagna**

_Chapter Two: _**Change of Plans**

"I've had it with this!" Hedwig Fuchs practically shouted when we got back to our house after yet another afternoon of wedding planning. The big day was in less than a month and my stepmother was so unbelievably picky that things were still not sorted out. We had a church and flowers and, of course, we had a caterer, but she was still fretting about the theme of the wedding, the guest list, and the outfits of the wedding party. "It's just too hard!" she wined. Hedwig crossed her arms over her chest and stamped her foot like a little girl. "I don't have enough energy for this! I can't do it anymore!"

"Now my dear," Dad said gently, patting her shoulder. "Cyndi will get you a nice glass of ice water"

"And Advil! Get me Advil!" she sobbed. "I have such a bad headache!"

My dad nodded at me and I trudged off to the kitchen to meet her demands. The sad thing was, I'd nearly gotten used to waiting on them hand and foot. When I reentered the living room, she was sprawled across the sofa moaning and groaning. Heike and Elfie were fanning her face with the comics out of the newspaper and Dad was pacing the room with worry etched across his face. _Give me a break!_ I wanted to shout. She was so dramatic! She got whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it and Dad didn't even seem to notice. Hedwig was a world class faker who would probably be dead three times over by now if the stress of this wedding was really taking as much of a toll on her as she claimed it was. I handed her the water and the Advil, even though I would rather have thrown the water in her face the way they did on soap operas and taken the Advil myself, for the headache all her crying was giving me.

Dad sat on the edge of the sofa next to her. "We can have a small wedding, baby, if you want. It will be less stressful for you. Or we can postpone it to give you more time."

"I don't want to wait! I love you! I want to get married! Marry me now, Bob! Take me away from all these stupid plans and music and cakes and marry me now!"

_Oh for goodness!_

"Sure, baby. Anything you want."

"You mean than?"

"Yes, of course. Tell you what. We'll go to Las Vegas. We'll get married in my van in the drive through chapel there. Screw all this fancy stuff. What do you say?"

"Why, dear, that'll be lovely! Just the two of us!"

"Yes, of course."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Everybody hold on here!"

All of them stopped their fanning and complaining and pleading and stared at me, open-mouthed.

"I helped you guys and helped you guys. Half these suggestions you're throwing away are mine. Half these plans, half this 'fancy stuff' you're 'screwing,' was my idea! And you're just gonna run away to Sin City without me? Just like that?"

My father stood and wrapped his arms around me. "We're very glad you've helped us, Cyndi, we really are. Thank you. But you mother wants "

"My what?" I looked at the woman sprawled dramatically across the couch who had waltzed into my life and tried my patience to its very core and thought I might puke at the thought of her being my mother.

He looked panicked, like my sudden outburst was way more than he was prepared to deal with. I realized how emotionally draining being engaged to that woman was for him. "We'll talk about this later, Cyndi, okay? I'll drive Hedwig, Heike, and Elfie home now, and we'll talk when I get back, I promise."

I nodded, finding myself close to tears. The Sisters hoisted their difficult mother off the sofa and she leaned on my father for strength and support as they trooped out the door. As soon as they'd gone, I buried my face in a couch pillow and wept with frustration.

**BREAK**

I awoke when I heard Dad shutting my bedroom door behind him. He was trying so hard to be quiet that he was making a racket. I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes, adjusting them to the darkness. "Oh," he said. "I'm sorry." He sat down on my bed.

"When you didn't come home I went to bed," I explained. "I was tired."

"That's alright. I'm sorry I'm late. Hedwig was just so weak I had to put her to bed myself."

_Oh __my gosh_"Dad, she's so dramatic. You know she's just doing it for attention."

He patted my hands. "Cyndi, you know hard this planning is on her. It's so stressful."

I pulled my hands out of his reach. "You always stick up for her, Dad. Why?"

He sighed. "She is dramatic, Cyn, you're right. But she is going through a lot right now, adjusting to this new country and trying to find a job at the same time she's trying to work out this whole wedding thing. You can understand that, can't you?"

_Oh, what's the use? _I nodded.

"Thank you. I know this has been hard on you too. We really do appreciate all of your help with this."

"I've been trying to help. I've been trying to make them feel welcome and help them fit in here. Everything you said." My voice broke, and I struggled to keep from crying again. Dad waited while I pulled myself together. "I'm sorry."

He pulled me into his arms, just like he did when I was a little girl and I woke up crying from a nightmare. "Oh, honey. It's okay. It's alright." He patted my back while I cried silent tears into his dress shirt. I breathed in his scent, knowing that smell so well from my childhood and knowing it meant I was safe. Everything really was okay. As long as I had my father to hold me and rock me to sleep it always would be. "Listen, Cyndi. You do try. I've noticed that. You try so hard."

"I do it for you Dad," I said, when at last I'd forced my eyes to stop leaking. "You know that picture of you and Mom on your honeymoon? Well, I…"

"When did you see that?"

"Once, a few years ago. It's hidden in your desk drawer in the den. I saw it when I was looking for a pen. You're not mad at me are you? For seeing it?"

"No, Cyndi, I'm not mad. I was just a little…surprised is all. Go on."

"Well, you look so happy. You _and _Mom. I've never seen you look so happy and I thought that maybe when you married Hedwig you would be. And I wanted that for you."

He was silent for a moment, speechless. "Cyndi," he said finally. "You're growing up." He took a deep breath. "It feels like that was centuries ago now. You're right, I was happy then. I was young and in love and the world was going right for me. But it's my fault if I haven't been so happy since Christine left. I haven't been able to let go like I know I should have been, always blaming myself and worrying over you. You've made me aware of that tonight, Cyndi. It's my job to worry about you, not the other way around."

He gently rolled me off his lap and tucked me back into bed. "I think sometimes I could be that happy with Hedwig. I would love that more than anything. Perhaps I was out of line tonight when I called her your mother. I don't expect you to think of her that way, at least not yet. Will you forgive me for being so indifferent?"

I sniffled. "Yes. Are you going to go to Las Vegas?"

"Would you absolutely hate that?"

"I don't know…"

"If we have a big wedding, will keep helping us get ready for it?"

"Of course."

"Then no, we won't go to Vegas."

"Good."

"Good night, Cyndi." He kissed me on the forehead and left.

**BREAK**

The next day when I came out of the ballet studio, I was surprised to see Hedwig pull up in front. It was one of the first times I'd seen her without The Sisters and I hesitated a moment before throwing my bag into the trunk. I slowly opened the passenger side door and sat down beside her. She didn't have the radio on and it seemed unusually quiet. It was as if she sensed my unease and was trying to make it even worse for me.

"You like ballet?" she finally asked as we pulled to a stop at the light on the corner. "You good at it?"

"Yeah."

She adjusted the heat. "I hear you had a little talk with your dad last night."

I sat up a little straighter. "So?"

"So, I don't think where we have this wedding is any of your business."

"But he's my dad."

"So?"

"Well, I just think I should be able to go, don't you?"

"Cyndi, you have no say in this. We're going to Las Vegas whether you like it or not."

The harshness of her tone and starkness of her words shocked me. "_What_?" I choked.

"You've been nothing but a nuisance since the day I met you. You're a spoiled little only child who's lived with the total attention of one parent for far too long. I think it's about time you learned about the real world, where you don't get everything you want and where you show respect to the people who are in charge of making choices. I'm the most important woman in you father's life now. You no longer matter. I _will_ have what I want and I don't care what a silly, selfish brat like you has to say about it."

I hardly knew how to respond. My shock quickly turned into anger. How dare she say that to me when she had no authority over me whatsoever! I had done nothing but try my hardest to stand her and be patient with her. For months I had been annoyed by her and ordered about by her, but never had I been so insulted by her. I had always thought it was just her nature, that she had a demanding and winy personality. I had figured she was a self-centered drama queen who didn't know she came off as so inconsiderate of others' feelings. I saw now that I'd been blind and ignorant. She not only knew how she came off, she went out of her way to push people around and take advantage of them, the way I knew she was taking advantage of my father and his nonjudgmental attitude. Well, I wouldn't allow her to take advantage of him anymore. "I'll tell Dad what you said to me. I'll tell him every word, how you insulted me and insulted the way he raised me, and he won't want to marry you anymore. You can just go back to Germany because nobody wants you here!"

She smirked. "Oh, I'm so scared! You go ahead and tattle on me, Cyndi. I'm a big girl. I can work around a little snitch. Like I said, you don't matter anymore. Now that he's got me and my daughters, he doesn't need you."

"That's not true! You know it's not!"

She looked at me with mock sympathy. "Oh, grow up, Cyndi. I can convince your father into thinking any way I want him to. He didn't want to go to Vegas, but now he does. He didn't want that house downtown, but now he does. He didn't want that music, or those flowers, or that church, or that theme, or that date, but now he does. Sure he loves you now, but eventually he won't care about you either. You just wait, Cynthia Ann."

"I'm not wedding flowers, Hedwig. You can't convince him to dispose of me. I'm his daughter."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You know I can do whatever I want. I've gotten this far, haven't I? It would be useless to mention this conversation to your father. He won't believe a word of it, so why break his heart by making him think his kid's a liar? Now that I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, so you might as well get used to me."

"I'm still telling him, Hedwig, so you'd better stop while you're ahead."

She just glared at me and turned on the radio. But I'd had the last word and she said nothing more.

**BREAK **

On Saturday, Bob's Best Caterers catered for a wedding at The Methodist Church of Christ on Fifth Street. It was long a drive across town from the catering business, so I sat in the front seat of the van and took the opportunity to tell Dad about Hedwig and all the things she'd said on the ride home from ballet. "I told her I didn't care what she said to you and that she'd better stop while she's ahead. Dad, she's such a bitch."

He was silent for a minute, staring intently out the windshield. I watched as the color drained from his face. "Cyndi," he said slowly, "you know how much I _want_ to believe you."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed. "Well, sweetie, Hedwig and I got to talking about you the other day…"

I felt tears stinging the corners of my eyes. "Dad, no…"

He shook his head, silencing me. "What happened to trying to adjust to her, Cyndi? I know she can be difficult. I can see that for myself. And maybe I _haven't_ been paying as much attention to you as I was before she came here, but that doesn't give you the right to make up stories about her to get it. Can you understand that, sweetie?"

I didn't know what to say. She'd actually done it. She'd turned my own father against me. She'd convinced him that I would lie to him and that I would make up stories about her. Could she really make him stop loving me? Could Hedwig replace me with her and The Sisters? "Dad, you have to believe me. She's awful. She's trying to take me out of your good graces. Can't you see that? Can't you see how she's trying to make you think the same way she does?"

"Why would she, Cyndi? Why would she suddenly act out against you after all this time?"

"I don't know. She's threatened by my, I guess. Hedwig wants to have the wedding in Las Vegas and doesn't want me standing in her way. She knows you'll listen to me instead of her and so she's trying to make you turn against me."

He looked torn, pulled in two directions at once. "I've been thinking, honey, that maybe it would be better for us to go ahead and get married in Vegas after all. Maybe some of the stress Hedwig's feeling is rubbing off on you. And maybe the sooner this is all over the better. They'll move in with us, you'll spend lots of time with them, and they'll grow on you. What do you think?"

This was all wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong! I didn't want Hedwig and The Sisters to grow on me. I didn't want them to run off to Vegas two weeks early. "Yeah," I mumbled. "Yeah, I think that's what you should do."

**BREAK**

A/N: Again, please review!

--roxmysox55


	3. Disaster

_A/N: Editor-woman LysPotter loves this chapter and hopes that you do too!_

_Forgot to put in a disclaimer. Don't own the plotline of Cinderella the original fairytale. In case you were wondering._

_Chapter Three: _**Disaster **

Dad and Hedwig were supposed to get married on the 26th of January, but they left on the tenth for Las Vegas, where they planned to be married in Dad's catering van at a drive through chapel. Hedwig made Heike and Elfie promise to take good care of me, but I already knew they'd end up being the worst babysitters/older sisters ever. I was pretty sure I was better qualified to babysit _them_.

"We'll be back at the end of the month," Dad said as they left for the airport. He squeezed me tight. "I really do wish you could be there, Cyn."

"Then take me," I begged.

He let go of me and held me at arm's length. "Now, you know why I can't do that." He gestured slightly with his head at my stepmother, who was having difficulty cramming herself into the door of the cab, and for a moment I thought I had my old dad back. Then he cleared his throat, shook his head, and was gone just as fast as he'd come.

"You'll make this easy on me, won't you? You'll obey your sisters and help them out around the house for me? I know they could use your help."

The thought of _The _Sisters ever being _my_ sisters was revolting. I blinked my eyes quickly to clear the thought of having relations to the Fuchses. "I'll miss you," I whispered. I wasn't sure he knew just how true that was.

"Thank you for being so nice about these new arrangements. I appreciate it."

"Sure."

"_Bob!_" Hedwig, who had finally accomplished the task of fitting into the back seat with all her luggage, had rolled down the window and was shouting to him.

"Just a minute, babe!" He winked at me and patted my head.

I gave him one last hug before he hurried off to catch the cab.

It was the last time I ever saw him.

**BREAK **

The day the news came, the day Dad was due home with his new bride, I got home late from school. Though I knew it also meant that Hedwig would officially be my stepmother and that we'd have to move down town, I'd been excited about his homecoming since I'd woken up in the morning. These past few weeks had been so brutal that I found I hardly cared.

Ever since their mom left, they'd been lazy, annoying, crabby, obnoxious, and basically out of control. They listened to their German rock band CDs full blast day and night, watched crazy Spanish soap operas while screaming at the TV, ate chicken noodle soup, popcorn, and ice cream nine meals out of ten, and slept in until eleven every morning. They walked around the house in their pajamas, took thirty-five minute showers that used up all the hot water, and were always shaking bottles of soda to watch them explode all over the kitchen floor. It was like living with two big babies, and by the last week in January I was at my wit's end. The worst part was that they'd recently stopped paying the rent on their apartment. I would never truly be rid of them again.

"Thanks again for driving me home, Mrs. Hoffman," I said as I got out of the car.

"Oh, you know it's no problem, Cyndi. I live right across the street."

Dad usually took me to school in the mornings, but neither Heike nor Elfie was willing to get up to take me. I knew that in five months I would have my own driver's license, but that day just wasn't coming soon enough. For the past two weeks, I'd relied on Mrs. Hoffman. Her and her son Will, who was my age, lived across the street. I used to play with him when we were little, but then he got really weird and I'm pretty sure he started doing drugs, and we hadn't been friends since sixth grade. His mom still insisted we should get married, though, and I think the only reason she agreed to drive me to and from school was because she was still holding onto her dreams that I would one day be her daughter-in-law.

I slung my back pack, bursting with psychology homework, over my back and hurried up the steps. I took a minute to pull down my shirt, dust off my jeans, and tuck a few strands of fly away hairs behind my ears before going inside. I had to look presentable if Dad was already home. Then I realized that was stupid. He wouldn't care if I'd suddenly turned into a turtle.

"What the _hell _do you mean the plane went down in Georgia? How is Georgia on the way to New York? Do you purposely go out of you way to make sure your passengers die in random places?" The kitchen was at the back of the house, but I could hear Heike's shouted telephone conversation as soon as I walked in the door. "I don't care how sorry you are!" she continued. "It's still you're fault! _Sie sind Leute Verlierer! Gott! Sie Dumme Idioten!_"

I set my back pack down and rushed into the kitchen. Heike slammed the phone down into the receiver and turned to face Elfie and me, who were waiting anxiously to know if what we were anticipating was the truth. "They're dead," she croaked.

I'd known before she'd even said it, but I had to hear it in words before I'd really believe it. "Who?" I asked. I found that my throat had constricted with the onslaught of tears. I'd spoken just above a whisper.

Heike glared at me. "Our parents," she said slowly, quietly. "They're dead. They died in plane crash in frickin' in Georgia, where they didn't even need to go to get here!" Her face was flaring with anger.

Elfie, who was standing beside me, let out a long, loud wail. Then Heike and Elfie ran to each other, wailing, wining, screaming, and cursing for all they were worth. They didn't welcome me into their embrace. I didn't want to be. There was no wail loud enough, no German swear word angry enough, to express my shock and sorrow. I couldn't comprehend any of it. The thought that my father wouldn't be coming home today, wouldn't ever be coming home again, simply didn't register. He'd never hug me, never wink at me, never smile at me, never joke with me, and never laugh with me. Dad had always been there to comfort me. He'd always been the one to make me feel better. Whenever I needed him, he was there. Just this morning, I'd still been able to count on him. Just a few hours ago, I'd been filled with joy at the thought of seeing him again. And just like that he was gone. All of those things had changed in a matter of minutes, and they would never be the same again. I didn't want to take a step towards a life without my dad. I didn't think I could ever be ready to do that. So I crumpled on the floor right where I was and sobbed for my life that was lost.

**BREAK**

Heike kicked me. "You're going to have to get up sooner or later. It's kind of hard to do stuff in the kitchen with you lying in the middle of the floor like this."

I didn't move. For two days, I'd remained right where I was, between the table and the kitchen counter, and I had no intention of ever moving again. The tile floor wasn't very comfortable. I was aching all over. I was hungry, tired, and I really had to go to the bathroom, but I wouldn't ever get up. They couldn't make me.

"You are so dramatic. My dad and my mom died too and you don't see me lying on the kitchen floor like an _Idioten_ do you?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, crossed my legs Indian style, straightened my back, and jutted out my chin, trying to look determined and stubborn. Obviously, she didn't get the hint.

"Me and Elfie are your legal gilligans now, the court and our parents said so, and so now you have to do what we say. I say get up and go to the store because we're all out of food. Now skedaddle."

"Huh? Dad left me in the care of _you_? Isn't there anybody else? A long lost cousin or an old spinster aunt or someone?"

"Humph. It's not like we want you around either, but we don't have a say in this. Mom wanted it and Bob wanted it."

"He did?"

"Ya. So get up and go to the store. And when you get back, do the dishes. They've been piling up."

"You can't tell me what to do, Heike. I don't have to listen to you."

She kicked me again. "We're in charge now. You're a miner. I'm not sure what that's got to do with anything, but that's what the courts say. We're older than you, so we're your legal gilligans and you have to do what we say. How many times do I have to go over this?"

I shook my head. "I'll never move from this spot for as long as I live."

She clenched her fists. "If you're not up off the kitchen floor in three seconds, I'll make that a sure thing. _Eine… zwei… drei_." She raised her hand as if to slap me, and I sprang up and dashed to the doorway. Heike chuckled. "That's what I thought. You're gonna go to the store now, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"And do the dishes."

"Fine."

She smiled. "I make a good legal gilligan, don't I?"

I rolled my eyes. "You two watch way too many TV re-runs. It's guardian. G-U-A-R-D-I-A-N. And I'm not a miner, I'm a minor. I can't believe I have to follow rules set by somebody who's so stupid!"

She stuck her tongue out at me. "You want to clean the bathrooms, vacuum the den, sweep the laundry room, and wash the windows too?"

"No."

"Then I suggest you skedaddle."

"Fine. Just let me pee first."

**BREAK**

By the time a month had gone by, I'd nearly gotten used to the hole in my life. Every now and then, I would still have a thought I just couldn't wait to share with my dad. But then I would be forced to remember that I couldn't share anything with him anymore. And I still raced to his den first thing when I got home from school just like I'd always done. But all that awaited me there would be an empty chair. I could still sense his presence in the house sometimes. I suppose when a person is in a home long enough, his person never really leaves. But as soon as I blinked, he was gone. So that's how I learned that the only way to be rid of a hole is to fill it with something. I found my something one afternoon in mid-February.

"You'll never believe this," Elfie said during a commercial break, the only time they talked during their soap operas.

"What?" Heike and I asked in unison.

"Turns out me and you need to get jobs, Heike."

"Why?" she whined.

"Well, first because we don't have any money. Mom always gave us some and she isn't doing that anymore. And second, because the courts say so. We can't be that one's legal gilligans if we can't support her."

Heike slumped in the couch. "A job? Us? We've never worked a day in our lives."

"I know. That's why it sucks. There aren't any jobs in suburbia. There never are."

Heike's eyes lighted up. "Then I guess we'll have to go into the City then, won't we?"

"What?" I asked. "Have you ever _been_ to the City? _the City_? You guys wouldn't last a day in New York City. There's no way. That place is crazy!"

Heike narrowed her eyes at me and turned to her sister. "You hear something, Elfie?"

"What?" She silenced us and cupped her hands over her ears.

Heike slapped her over the head. She pointed at me with her thumb. "Far as I'm concerned, nobody said anything. Seems we'll be the ones supporting her while she sits at home doing nothing all day and that"

"What? I don't sit at home doing nothing! I go to school. I get all A's. You know how tough that is?"

"Well, if we're getting jobs, then so are you. School isn't very useful to us. Seems to me you ought to be flipping burgers or something. And this house is a mess. Seems to me you ought to be cleaning this place up instead of sitting on your bum complaining."

"Are you people serious?"

They nodded.

I sighed. "Fine. I'll make you guys a deal. This is the house I grew up in. I've lived here my whole entire life. You might not like suburbia, but I do. New York City sucks. I'll get you both a job working for Beth and Jimmy at my dad's old catering business. Even if you have no experience in the food business, they'll take you because they're such good cooks they could teach anybody how to become a five star chef. And while you're working for them, I promise I'll make this place spick and span. The floors will shine."

"If we stay here?" Heike asked, making no effort to mask her disgust.

"Yes. Is it a deal?"

Heike and Elfie mumbled to each other for a few minutes then turned back to me.

"Alright. We'll stay in this dumb town."

I found myself smiling despite myself. "Oh, thank you! You guys won't regret it, I promise."

Elfie grunted. "We'll see."

I knew I'd just killed two birds with one stone. Not only would I be able to stay in this house where all my memories were of a life before the Fuchses, but I would be able to have something to do to keep my mind from wandering in that direction. I still missed my father terribly every day and I hoped that maybe keeping my hands and my mind busy would lessen the pain I felt. Just maybe it would fill my hole.

**BREAK**

The next morning I took the bus, since The Sisters wouldn't drive me, over to Bob's Best Caterers. Dad didn't work there anymore, but the sign, which was still in need of a new paint job, was still up in front. I hadn't been there since the wedding that had been Dad's last gig. I'd been staying away on purpose, even though Beth had said she'd let me start training with them whenever I wanted. For some reason, it didn't feel right to do any catering or cooking or celebrating with strangers since Dad had died. I was hopeful that she'd let me transfer that promise over to Heike and Elfie and let them learn to cook from Beth and Jimmy instead.

Cammy, the receptionist, knew me. She let me into the kitchen, where Beth and Jimmy were cooking up a storm for Josh Aronowitz's bar mitzvah that night. I snuck behind Beth, who was taking raw beef out of the freezer. "What're you making?"

She jumped in surprised and almost lost the beef. "Why it's Cynthia Ann Moretti! What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?"

Jimmy stepped into the room then. "Hey, Cyndi! You coming to help us tonight?"

Beth and Jimmy had been cooking with Dad since culinary school in the 1980's. They knew more about every type of food there was than anyone I'd ever met and the three of them put together had practically dominated the entire food business. Now, even with a member of their team gone, they continued to be the amazing cooks they'd always been. With the smell of this familiar kitchen surrounding me again, I remembered my dream to be a caterer, and I had to force the words out of my mouth. "Could Heike and Elfie work here? Would you train them instead of me? They need the job more than I do."

Beth and Jimmy gasped. "Why, honey? Don't you want to learn to be a cook anymore?" she asked.

I couldn't lie. "Just as much as always," I sighed. "But I don't have the time. The Sisters need jobs really bad, but they can't find one here. I told them I didn't want to move to the City."

"Those two wouldn't last a day in New York. Did you tell them that?"

I nodded.

"You were going to be our little protégé, Cyndi. We were looking forward to it," Jimmy protested.

"I know. But you'll teach them won't you? So we don't have to leave the suburbs?"

Beth finally relented. "Alright. But it'll take a while. They don't have the brains God gave a goose, you know. Cooking is in your blood, girl, but it's not in theirs."

Jimmy still looked hesitant.

"You guys can teach anybody. Dad always said you were the two best chefs on this side of the Rockies."

"Fine. We'll do it for Bob," he said. "The Fuchs sisters will be master chefs in three days, mark my words."

I smiled. "Thanks, you guys. It means a lot to me."

"We love you, Cyndi. We'll always help you out." Beth pulled the three of us into an embrace.

"Anybody got a car? A ride home would mean a lot to me too."

BREAK

A/N: REVIEW!

please?

--roxmysox55


	4. A Cook Who Can't Cook

_A/N: Yep. Chapter 4. You know the drill._

_Chapter Four: _**A Cook Who Can't Cook**

Spring cleaning took on a whole new meaning that March. As the flowers pushed up from the ground, the soft rains fell, and the trees blossomed all down the block, I opened the cabinet under the sink and took out all the cleaning supplies. I'd never done that much cleaning. Like everyone, I had chores, but those just included folding the laundry, dusting every now and then, vacuuming, cleaning my room, and loading the dishwasher. I got twenty dollars at the end of every week for that. I'd never mopped a floor, never scrubbed a tub or a toilet, never washed the clothes, never washed the dishes, and never cooked a meal. Dad had taken care of most those things and Mrs. Wallace, our old maid that came at the end of the month before The Sisters decided to fire her, had done the rest. I suppose every girl needs to know those things before becoming a mom, but my mom hadn't stuck around to teach me anything. I rode my bike over to the library and got some books on housekeeping, hoping these things could all be self taught.

Every day when I got home from school, I finished my homework then set to tackling the newest task. The Sisters, still moping about having to go to work and having to stay in the suburbs, got back at me for making that deal with them by trashing the house. They knew the deal would be off as soon as I decided all this cleaning was too much for me and gave up on it. Though I thought about doing just that an awful lot in the weeks to come, I knew that even worse than hairy drains and sticky stains would be admitting defeat to flip burgers on a street corner in New York City. Like I'd said before, this was the town and the house I'd grown up in. I had a million happy memories I just knew I would forget if I fled to the City. It would be all too easy to push the thoughts of my dad and the suburbs from my mind and concentrate on a brand new life if I left it all behind. But I couldn't do it. I figured I owed it to Dad to remember him every single day for the rest of my life. He'd deliberately pushed Mom from his memory and from mine, but I would never do that to him. I surrounded myself with scum and dirt and memories. Heike and Elfie could mope all they wanted.

I slowly learned to do all the housework. I learned to scrape the dishes and close the detergent door before turning on the dishwasher. I learned to separate my whites from my darks and to follow directions on clothing tags when they said "dry clean only." Scrubbing tubs, toilets, and bathroom floors was something I could do if I did it slowly and carefully without thinking way too much. I learned that if I was thorough, I wouldn't have to do it again for a while. However, the reward it left me was brief, disappearing with a flush.

Cooking was a different matter altogether. Beth and Jimmy had said it was in my blood, but I really doubted that. I'd grown up on my father's amazing food. Anything I tried to duplicate seemed bland in comparison. I worked too slowly. I could only do one thing at a time, but it seemed I needed to do fifty. I was always nicking my fingers with a knife while cutting vegetables, burning the dinner rolls, or undercooking the spaghetti. Nothing turned out. Nothing tasted like it had when Dad had made it.

I gave up with the measuring cups, spoons, and cookbooks and bought frozen lasagnas, canned vegetables, and microwave dinners. Thank God The Sisters would eat anything! I, on the other hand, felt slapped. No guest of honor at a banquet would ever trade his glazed salmon for a grilled cheese sandwich. There was no longer any hope for me owning the catering business I'd always longed to own. I could never show my face at culinary school. With a dash of salt, I dashed my dreams and ate my cold, burnt chicken nuggets.

**BREAK**

The first week of June, just after my sixteenth birthday and just after school let out, The Sisters explained their new proposition to me over dinner. We were having macaroni and cheese with cut up hotdogs in it, one of the few meals I could actually get right.

"Me and Elfie have been thinking," Heike explained, "that with summer starting, you no longer have an excuse for not working. You're not in school anymore, so we put in a good word for you at the Old Jefferson Place."

"Huh? That place has been deserted for years. Who'd you put in a good word with? The ghost of Mr. Jefferson?"

Elfie didn't look amused. She used her fingernail to scrape a piece of hotdog out from between her teeth. "Don't you read the newspapers?"

"Or watch the news?"

"Well, yeah. Sometimes."

Heike shook her head from side to side. "Obviously you don't or you would know. The prince of Orminia is going to go to N.Y.U. next year, so his dad paid three million dollars to renovate that mansion for him and now they're hiring a whole bunch of people to cook and clean for him. He's moving in next week."

Something about that story sounded familiar. I'd seen news crews there the other day when Mrs. Hoffman took me home from school. No, I didn't have a car. I couldn't drive worth a damn. "Where's Orminia?" I asked.

Heike shrugged. "Somewhere in Europe. I think it's by Hungary."

I wasn't sure I remembered that from geography. Then I realized that the important matter here wasn't where Orminia was. It was that The Sisters had just gotten me a job. "Don't I do enough cooking and cleaning here for you guys?" I asked.

"You sure don't get us any money by working here, do you? We let you get by with it because you gave us some crap about how hard you have to work to get straight A's. Now it's time to become part of the working class like the rest of us. You've been spoiled long enough."

"What? Spoiled? How on earth have I been spoiled? I've been working my butt off for you guys. I've cleaned this house from top to bottom day after day. And it sucks."

Elfie took a huge swig of cola and let out a long burp. "You want some cheese with that whine, Cyndi?"

"Let's make a deal," Heike squealed. It took me a minute to realize she was trying to sound like me. "You go and work for that prince or we'll be in the City by tomorrow morning, with or without you." She cleared her throat. "You got that?" she said in her normal, thickly accented, manly voice.

"You'd leave without me?"

"You bet," Elfie said. "And the moment we walked out that door, you'd be forced to go and get a job anyway. Want to support yourself? Me and Heike can work around the courts if you don't want to do what we tell you to."

It seemed like a lose-lose situation to me at first, but in the end, I figured it was better to have these two dumb, stinky, whiny stepsisters, who were my family in round-about, really gross sort of way, as my "legal gilligans," than it would be to be all alone. I sighed, knowing I was cornered. "Fine. I'll go get an application tomorrow."

"No need," Heike smiled. "Beth knows the head chef at the Old Jefferson Place. She told her what a great cook Bob was and the woman decided to hire you. All you have to do is show up in the morning."

"_What_?" I chocked and sputtered my lemonade all over my macaroni. "Cook? I can't cook! They'll fire me the instant I walk into that kitchen."

"You make good lasagna."

"And chicken noodle soup."

I rolled my eyes. "You think the prince of Orminia eats frozen chicken potpies for dinner? You think he hired a head chef to heat up Chinese take out leftovers? I can't believe this! I'm going to make a total fool of myself if I show up there tomorrow."

Heike scoffed. "God. I try to do somebody a favor and look what I get. You're so ungrateful. Come on, Elfie, let's go to bed."

After they stomped out the door, I stuck my face right into my bowl of macaroni, feeling slapped all over again. It was a chance I would have dreamed of back when I thought I was good at more than opening a can of tuna. But I was a failure. And once I walked into that kitchen and proved it, I'd be thrown out the door and The Sisters would leave for New York without me.

**BREAK**

Mrs. Hoffman drove me to the Victorian mansion on Main Street the next morning. It had been there for a hundred years, always looking the same, but today it seemed different, harsher than usual. It loomed over me, gloomy and frightening. I stood shaking in the warm summer sun as I waited for the butler to open the door, wondering if I should just run off and go hide in the bushes forever. But as the door opened, my feet felt like deadweights. I couldn't have moved if I'd tried.

"Yes?" the little man before me asked in a foreign accent that I didn't recognize. He was short, squat, tan, and peered up at me suspiciously. "His Highness isn't accepting any visitors."

"Oh. Well, is the head chef?"

"Gail, you mean? I'm not sure. Who are you?"

"Cyndi Moretti. I'm here for a job in the kitchen."

He nodded. "Oh. Right this way, please. Gail is a terrific cook, but she's swamped in there and I think she could use a hand."

I wasn't sure I could really be of any use to her at all, but I followed him down the hallway to the kitchen anyway. As we walked through the house, I saw that the three million dollars had been put to good use. Turkish carpets covered the mahogany floors. Paintings lined the walls. Picture windows opened to show the beautiful, newly landscaped gardens. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. Tables displayed exotic vases full of freshly cut roses. I felt out of place in my jeans, hoodie, and sneakers. Only in a flowing ball gown could I fit in in such a house.

But as we entered the kitchen off the ballroom in the back of the house, I was in a completely different world. The room was cluttered with pots and pans. The sink was full of dirty dishes. Tied-together vegetables hung from the ceiling. Brown paper grocery bags full to bursting with food covered the counters and island. A middle-aged, plump woman with flyaway hair and a face bright pink from the steam of the pot she was stirring stood bent over the stove in the corner wearing a filthy a apron. She didn't look up when we entered.

"Uh…Gail?" said the butler.

"I'm working here, Szylvezster," she muttered in a Brooklyn accent.

"I can see that. I brought you somebody to help out."

She put down her spoon and turned around. Gail looked me up down and gave me half smile. "So you're Beth's protégé, eh?"

I nodded.

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the stove. "She said you were sixteen. I don't believe it. How tall are you? Six feet?"

"Uh…5'8". I think. But Beth was telling the truth. My birthday was two weeks ago."

"Better not put a chef's hat on you. You'll shoot right up through ceiling if I do." She looked around the kitchen and I saw embarrassment sweep across her face. "They put me in here and expected me do all this work on my own. The dishes have been piling up and I haven't been able to wash them. I spill things on the counters and on the floor, but I don't have the time to wipe them up. I know you came here to cook up a storm, and you'll get your chance sooner or later, but for now if you could focus on putting away these groceries and making this place look half way decent?"

I could actually feel the weight lifting off my shoulders. Cleaning I could do. I spent every day on my hands and knees with a sponge. "Just tell me where to start," I said with a smile.

**BREAK**

Every day after that, I tidied up the kitchen while she cooked. As I soaked the dirty dishes in the sink and put away the groceries, I watched Gail out of the corners of my eyes. She worked swiftly and precisely with grace, ease, and patience. She didn't rush. She didn't panic when she was running out of time. There wasn't a trace of the hurried, frightened expression that had been pasted on my face as I scalded myself with boiling water, sliced my fingers open with knives, and dropped pots on my feet while I ran to save the burning biscuits. Gail cooked three meals a day in the very same manner, every dish coming out equally perfect. There was certainly some secret to it, I decided. There was something that made her and my father amazing cooks and me a failure who stuck to frozen lasagnas. If I discovered it, would I be able to become a cook after all?

"What are you staring at?" she asked me the following Saturday as she diced onions for a soup and I scraped melted cheese out of a casserole dish.

"Oh…uh…nothing."

She smiled over her shoulder. "You were staring at me, weren't you? At my cooking? I'm sorry you haven't gotten a chance to cook yet. The way Beth was describing your talent, I assume I'm just wasting you by having you clean my kitchen, aren't I?"

"Beth said I had talent?"

"Oh yes. She said your dad was the best chef she's ever worked with and that it was in your blood. Said you cooked for your older sisters all the time and that they love everything you make."

I blushed. How could I ever live up to those standards? I was out of luck if Gail expected me to be anything like Dad. "Uh…well, I'm not…"

"No need to be embarrassed, hon. Cook's are never modest. Tell you what," she said. "How about you go run a quick errand for me and when you get back I'll let you help me finish off this French onion soup?"

"Uh…"

"Will you run to the linen room for me and get some clean towels? We're all out in here."

"Sure…Okay."

"That would be great." She turned her back on me and continued to work.

Despite the fact that I had no idea where the linen room was, I left the kitchen in search of such a place. I didn't know what would happen when I got back and Gail had me help her with the soup. Maybe if I took forever in the linen room, she'd be forced to finish it off without me. When I came out of the dining room, I found there was a long, narrow hallway to my left and a staircase to my right. I'd never been in a house where an entire room was dedicated to sheets, washcloths, and kitchen towels. Was it more likely to be down a creepy hallway or up a flight of stairs? It seemed like it would be awfully easy to get lost in a house where flights of stairs and hallways popped out of nowhere. I shrugged and began to climb the stairs.

As I reached the last two steps, I began to hear the music. It was easily recognizable as an acoustic guitar, though whether somebody was actually strumming away in one of the rooms or whether they were playing a CD, I couldn't tell. It was good enough to be recorded, I thought. It had that beautiful, full sound. I could hear singing as I reached an open door at the end of the hall. There was definitely a young man sitting in there playing. I paused for a minute in the doorway to listen, but he didn't look up to see me. He was sitting on the edge of an unmade king-size four poster bed, his head hanging down and his dark hair covering his eyes. His hands moved in the same swift, easy way as Gail's did when she was chopping vegetables. Clothes were strewn about the floor in untidy piles and posters with words in another language were taped crookedly to all four walls. The room was just as large as the rest of the house, with the same huge windows and high ceilings, but it was just as messy as the kitchen. "Sometimes I feel like the world is turning, turning so fast that I can't keep up. And sometimes I feel like the sky is falling, but there's no way that I can make it stop," he was singing in a smooth, richly accented voice. "And so I sing la la la la la sometimes. And so I sing la la la la la la some" He noticed me then and stopped, blushing with embarrassment.

_Oh no! You can't just invade some stranger's privacy this way! _"_This_ isn't the linen room!" I said, knocking my fist against my head, then I ran from the doorway and headed back downstairs, knowing I would look ridiculous without a pile of kitchen towels in my arms but too ashamed to care.

**BREAK **

"Why you're bright purple!" Gail exclaimed as I entered the kitchen with empty hands. "And you didn't bring me any towels," she said suspiciously. "Where have you been, Cyndi?"

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I couldn't find the linen room."

She put her hands on her hips. "Well, you obviously found something. What was it?"

"I don't know. I ran into some guy with a guitar."

Gail moved her eyebrows up and down suggestively. "Oh?"

I moved my bangs behind my ears. "Yeah."

"Here, let's not worry about those towels. Come help me with this soup."

I shuffled hesitantly over to the stove.

"Now in this pan," she explained, "I've been cooking my butter, sugar, and onions. See that nice golden color they are?" I nodded. "That's just the way we want them. And now, we'll stir in the flour. You want to do that while I get this wine bottle opened?"

I swallowed. "Uh…sure."

She chuckled. "No need to be so nervous about that flour there. It won't bite."

I nodded and took the flour, but my hands were shaking. I poured it in slowly, like the directions said. Then I stirred it in so it blended with the other ingredients.

"Perfect," Gail said over my shoulder. "Just like that. Now here's the wine. Add that. Good. And the water. Perfect. Now the beef broth. Slowly. Good." She smiled at me and handed me the pan top to cover it. "You're so nervous, Cyndi. Why?"

I felt tears stinging the corners of my eyes. "Because I can't cook," I admitted. "I'm so sorry. My father was the best cook in the world. I always thought I would be like him, but I'm not. Beth wants me to be like him too, but she's never tried my cooking . I cook for The Sisters at home, but all I can make comes frozen in a bag. They think I'm a good cook only because they'll eat anything. And I only took this job because they decided I needed one and had Beth recommend me for it. If I didn't take it they said they'd move to the City without me. I'm a failure and I don't deserve this job. I'm really no cook at all so I'll understand if you want to toss me out the door and replace me with someone who is." I brushed the tears from my eyes as soon as the appeared, but it was no use. They just kept on coming.

Gail squeezed my shoulders. "There, there, Cyndi. Pull yourself together, hon. You think you can learn how to cook over night? It takes hard work and lots of practice to be a real chef. You didn't have time for that. People were counting on you to cook for them, so you did the only you could do. Chefs may make food look beautiful. They may make it taste good. But do you know what a cook's most important job is ?" I shook my head. "A cook's real job is to feed people. They put food down on a plate and hand it to somebody who's hungry. That's a cook's real job. Therefore, I'd say you're a wonderful cook, after all, Cyndi. How about becoming a chef now?"

"Does that mean I can stay? You'll teach me how to cook?"

"You bet. And finishing this French onion soup for the prince's lunch can be your first lesson. What do you say?"

I sniffled. "That'd be great."

**BREAK**

Surprisingly enough, the two of us finished the soup and it didn't taste half bad. I hadn't done much work with bread bowls. I hadn't done much with anything that didn't come from the refrigerated section at the grocery store, really. But I learned how to serve soup in a bread bowl that day, and I didn't plan on forgetting how anytime soon.

Gail worked with that same confident patience she always cooked with as she taught me. At first it was intimidating. My hands still shook as she leaned over my shoulders, even now that my secrets were exposed and that I had her promise not to fire me. It was more than I could hope for not to feel rushed and nervous as I concentrated on the new tasks she set before me. But slowly, as I watched her work, I saw it was simply her manner. She felt at peace and at home in her kitchen. I knew that her confidence was something I should look up to rather than feel put down by.

I went home that day having helped cooked an actual mean that wasn't burnt, cold, overcooked, or raw. I swelled with pride. Since January, my life had been going downhill, but it seemed like things were finally looking up again. My dreams didn't seem so out of reach anymore. I left the Jefferson Place with a smile on my face that evening.

BREAK

A/N: These aren't really A/Ns. They're Editor Notes. E/Ns.

Thought you might want to know.

Review!

--LysPotter for roxmysox55


	5. Guitar Guy

_E/N: I just like putting these things in. Read it. Now._

_Chapter Five: _**Guitar Guy**

One morning, the third week in June, I found a guitar in the cabinet with the pots and pans. Gail had asked me to get a pan to fry the bacon, so I'd gotten down on my hands and knees to find one for her. As soon as I opened the door, an acoustic guitar tumbled right out onto the tile floor. "Ahhh!" I screamed.

She turned around from where she was cracking eggs. "What the…?"

I shook my head. "It just fell out of the cabinet," I said.

Gail narrowed her eyes. "Bring it here, hon." I did. She took it from me and examined it, then shrugged. "Who put it there?"

I thought for a moment. "That boy with a guitar upstairs! Uh…" I realized I had no idea what his name was. "Guitar Guy!" I exclaimed. "It _has _to be his. But what's it doing here?"

She sighed. "Beats me. Go put it on the counter over there and get me a pan. Whoever the boy is, I'm sure he's missing it."

I'd known Gail long enough to understand that nothing got in the way of her cooking, even guitars that popped out of kitchen cabinets. I found her a pan and took the bacon out of the fridge. We heard yelling coming from the dining room then.

"Well, they were lying!" a boy screamed. "I can't believe you trust the house help over me." I recognized the voice as soon as I heard it. He had the same rich accent as Guitar Guy upstairs. I figured it was his guitar and that he'd come for it, so I rushed to put it back where I'd found it. What would he think if he found out I'd tampered with it?

"Now, Your Highness," Szylvezster, who apparently was a butler _and_ the head of housekeeping, replied, "you know that I trust you. Your parents put your household in my care, you remember, and I just want what's best for you. I'm in charge of the servants, and so I make it my business to hear the gossip amongst the maids so that I can put an end to any rumors about you right away. It's just that this time…"

"I'll end the rumors for you if you want me to. I don't play the guitar. I don't sing. I have no musical talent whatsoever. I'm as dedicated to schoolwork as I ever was and nothing has come in the way of that and never will. Least of all music."

"Good then. Because if something had you know I'd"

"I know, I know. You'd have to tell my dad. But you don't have to because nothing has."

"Yes, of course." He cleared his throat. "I've something to attend to now. If you'll excuse me."

"Sure. I have to uh…do something too."

Guitar Guy; aka Prince Robi, opened the kitchen doors. For the first time, I got a good look at my employer. He was so different from the boys at North High School, who all wore their hair too long and their pants too low. I'd seen enough checkered boxer tops to last a life time. Those boys all blended together. But Guitar Guy wasn't like the hott guys in my home room. He was more like the handsome men in 1930's movies that girls figured had dropped off the face of the planet. "…heard that in here, huh?" he asked, looking at me. I'd been too busy staring at him to hear the whole sentence.

I shook my head to clear it, trying to focus on the moment at hand. Then I realized I was turning the same shade of purple as the last time I'd run into him. I'd never met a prince before and I knew there must be pages and pages of proper etiquette when it came to having a conversation with the heir to the throne of Orminia. I'd probably broken ten rules just standing there looking at him. "Uh…yeah. Kinda," I choked.

He laughed. It was a beautiful sound, so rich and emotional like his singing. "Hey, you're Linen Room Girl," he said. "Same color too."

I bit my lip, wishing I could will myself to turn a few shades lighter. "And you're Guitar Guy," I said.

He smiled. "Yeah, about that." He pointed to the cabinet with his thumb.

"It scared us," I managed to say. "I opened the cabinet and it just fell right out."

"Sorry. You see, I had to hide it somewhere. I always hid it in my closet, but then the maids found it and Szyl heard them talking and… Well, I needed somewhere else. I hope you don't mind."

"Why do you need to hide it at all?"

The prince sighed. "My parents don't approve. I came here to go to school, so that's what I gotta do. Bottom line. They don't want me messing around."

I'd heard him play and I thought he was amazing, but I figured it would probably be better not say anything against the king and queen of Orminia. For all I knew, it was breaking some sort of law in his country. So I just nodded. "Well, you can hide the guitar here if you want to."

He looked like he was about to say something more, but he changed his mind. "Okay. Thanks." He started towards the door. "See you later, Linen Room Girl," he said.

I smiled. "Bye, Guitar Guy."

When he left, Gail cleared her throat impatiently. Until then, I'd forgotten she was there. Her scrambled eggs were already scrambled and the bacon was already fried. I hadn't helped at all. "So, 'Linen Room Girl', what was all that about? You do know that boy's guitar is going to be in the way, especially in that cabinet. And if it's hidden in here, and he's always coming in here to get it, and you're standing stock still over there, red as a beet, how'm I supposed to get anything done in this kitchen?"

"Uh…sorry. I was just surprised is all."

"Mmm hmm. Just get me a serving spoon and a spatula."

**BREAK**

When I got home that night, the Sisters greeted me by flinging a pile of clothes at my face. Shirts, pants, shorts, underwear, and socks gathered around my feet, slid off my shoulders, and landed on my head.

"Uh…" I said, flicking a sock off my shoulder, "Monday night is laundry night, remember? It's Thursday."

Elfie just laughed in response.

"We know when you do the laundry, _idioten_. These clothes need mending, not washing," Heike grumbled.

"Mending? As in rips and tears and missing buttons?"

"What do you think?" said Elfie. "Duh."

I shook my head. "I can't sew. Can't you get somebody else to do it for you?"

Heike sighed. "We made a deal, remember? You help out around the house and we don't leave the suburbs for the City. So I guess you better learn how."

"Ya. Like how you learned to do the dishes and the laundry and the bathrooms and all that stuff. Now you learn how to sew," Elfie added. "Simple."

"Cuz New York, New York is a hell of a town and this place is a _hell_hole." The two high-fived over Heike's joke.

"Fine," I relented. "I'll find somebody to teach me how, I guess. But I don't even think this house has a sewing basket."

At work the next morning, I asked Gail if she knew how to sew. "What am I? A home ec. teacher? Cooking and sewing? Can't you learn that in school?"

"It's June. I'm not in school."

"Can't your mom teach you?"

"Uh…not exactly. She's…ummm…."

"All thumbs?"

This was a really uncomfortable situation. Lying was an easy way out. "Yeah."

She nodded. "My mom was the same way. Alright. What is it you need to sew?"

"Oh, just some mending. Missing buttons, tears, holes, that sorta thing."

Gail narrowed her eyes. "Can't even do that? Maybe you should take better care of your things."

"Well, they aren't my clothes. They're my…The Sisters'. They're all thumbs too. I'm the only one with any hope in this family."

She smiled. "Okay. I can't teach you here, though. Not during work hours. What do you do after?"

_Clean the house from top to bottom. But The Sisters totally owe me one._ "Nothing I can't get out of."

"Good. I live on Bloomsbury. Do you know where that is?"

I nodded. Really, I had no sense of direction at all. I didn't have clue. But Mrs. Hoffman would have to be the one to take me anyway, so it didn't matter.

"Fine. Tonight, bring your sisters' messed up clothes and I'll help you fix them."

"Thanks. I was hoping you'd say that. I'd be in deep shit if you hadn't."

She laughed. Gail obviously didn't know the half of it.

**BREAK**

On the ride home, I asked Mrs. Hoffman if she could take me to Gail's house. "I'll just run in, get the clothes, and come right out."

"Sorry, honey," she said. "Willie's in a play tonight and I've got to go and see him. Any other night you know I would, Cyndi."

"Will acts now?"

Her face lit up with pride. "Oh, yes. He dances and sings and everything. He's playing Captain Georg von Trapp in the Sound of Music and he'd kill me if I wasn't right there in the front row when he sings 'Edelweiss'."

I couldn't picture Will Hoffman dancing and singing on stage for the life of me. I almost asked her if I could tag along to see it for myself. "Oh. Really?" I said instead.

She nodded sadly. "Your sisters can't take you? They're not doing anything, I don't suppose."

Mrs. Hoffman didn't like the two idiots I lived with either. It was a relief to be able to talk about it with somebody. Gail didn't have a clue, so I wasn't going to tell her. I had no problem making her think I still lived in the perfect world I once had. Beth and Jimmy, who I still saw from time to time, didn't like them either. I didn't see how anybody could. But they wouldn't say a bad word about The Sisters and didn't like me badmouthing them either. Supposedly they owed it to my father not to not speak ill about my new family. "Of course not. They'd die before they ever got up off that couch while their precious soap operas are still on, though." _No offense, Dad. _

"Maybe they will if you ask them to. After all, they _are_ the reason you're going, aren't they?"

I shook my head. "They won't take me. I'll just have to tell Gail I can't come and figure out some other way to mend those clothes on my own."

We pulled up at the front of the house then. "Okay, babe. I'm sorry I can't take you."

"That's alright. Tell Captain von Trapp good luck for me."

"Sure thing."

When I came into the house, The Sisters were seated on the couch watching some show about doctors working in a hospital who made out in the supply room between surgeries. They were eating popcorn and drinking sodas, but I knew they'd still want me to fix dinner. It was lasagna and green bean night, their favorite. Since they only talked during commercials, they didn't even look up when I came in; their eyes remained transfixed the guy they called "hott scrubs man." I went into the kitchen to look up Gail's number in the phonebook.

"Hello?" Gail sounded grouchy, and I wondered if I'd interrupted her dinner.

"Hi, Gail. It's Cyndi."

"Uh-huh. Where are you, kiddo? Did you get lost or something? Or aren't you coming?"

"I can't. I don't have a ride. I asked my neighbor, who takes me to work every day and brings me home, but her son's in a play tonight."

"Oh, that's too bad. I guess I thought you were old enough to drive yourself."

"I am old enough. But I don't have a car and I don't know how to drive." I hated to admit that. The less Gail knew about how sucky my life really was, the better.

"Oh? So, let me get this straight. Your older sisters, who are making you mend all these clothes for them, recommended you for a job they knew you couldn't do, and make you cook for them even though you don't know how, won't even take you to my house tonight? Can't they drive either? Or that all-thumbs mother of yours?"

I sighed. It was hopeless. "Um…actually, I don't have a mom. She left when I was three. And The Sisters _do_ have cars, but they've never taken me anywhere. I don't bother to ask anymore." No matter how much I wanted to keep Gail uninformed, I just couldn't make myself defend The Sisters.

"Oh…" she cleared her throat. "Gosh, Cyndi, why didn't you tell me? I can come pick you up if you want me to. I don't mind."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's a little out of my way, but hey, why not? I got a full tank of gas."

**BREAK**

The Sisters' clothes were mended that night, thanks to Gail. She handed me a needle then took out her old sewing machine and sewed three buttons on a sweater vest in the time it took me to thread it. "By the way you responded when I asked you to teach me, I never would have known you were so _good_ at it," I said as I began to rip out another line of stitches.

She set up a card table in the middle of the living room to sew on and I sat on the couch behind her. The room vibrated with the soft humming of the machine, and though it would more than likely end in disaster, I really wanted to try it out for myself. She turned around and smiled at me. "You couldn't help me for feeling suspicious. Sewing is a lost art. I couldn't figure out why a young girl like you would want to learn how from an old woman like me."

I pricked myself again. "Ow! Can I have another thimble?"

Gail laughed. "_Four_ thimbles, Cyndi?" She tossed me another one. "You know you're only supposed to wear one on your thumb, right?"

I put it on my right middle finger and quickly turned the conversation away from my sewing skills. "How long have you been sewing?"

"Oh, forty years at least."

"But I thought your mom was all thumbs. Who taught you how?"

"My grandma. She taught me on this very machine. It's been in the family for years." She added the blouse she'd been working on to the done pile. "It's probably sixty years old, but it still works like a charm. I wouldn't trade it for one of those fancy, shmancy, computerized ones."

I fidgeted in my seat. My back ached from leaning over and my fingers were swollen. I'd been working on the same rip in the same pocket for the past hour. Nothing in the pile was mine. She looked over her shoulder and sighed. "How's it coming?"

"Terrible."

"Give it here." I handed it over and she stuck it under the needle and pushed down the presser foot. It clicked and the humming began again. "Why do you do it, Cyndi? Why do you work so hard for those sisters of yours?"

I took off the thimbles and rubbed my fingers one by one while I thought. "Why'd they become my legal guardians? Why'd they take me in? I don't have an answer to that. They could have let me end up where I would've, but supposedly their mom, who I always figured hated me, wanted them to. I know they _seem_ like idiots, but maybe I just judged them all too quickly. Maybe I didn't give them enough of a chance."

Gail smiled sadly. "You have a good heart, Cyndi, that's why. You don't have to take all this crap from them, but you do anyway, because you're a good person. I think this dad of yours would be proud of you, kiddo. You see the good in people, and that's a lost art. Like sewing." She looked at me for a moment, as if to see if I'd taken all that in, then shook her head and laughed. "Now, I'll finish these up for you. You might be an alright cook, but you suck at sewing, sweetie."

BREAK

E/N: Is it not awesomeness!

Review, because roxmysox55 and I love you.

--LysPotter (and roxmysox55)


	6. Vandalism

_E/N: You know, Sarah probably wishes she could do her own notes. Let me ask her._

_Me: Do you want to do your own notes?_

_Her: Yes!_

_So, presenting...roxmysox55, for the FIRST time! Be NICE people._

_Hello. There's a reason Terri writes these. Um... yeah. Read chapter six._

_Chapter Six: _**Vandalism **

On the 30th, I was late for work. Will Hoffman's girlfriend, who played Leisel von Trapp in the musical, parked her convertible in front of our driveway when she picked him up for drama club that morning. Heike and Elfie were going to the mall to spend money they didn't have and she was in the way, so they waltzed across the street and gave it to her. I stayed inside the house, but I could hear them going at it all the way from there. I don't think there are any German swear words in that play, but whether they were in the script or not, Leisel tossed back everything Heike gave her. In the end, though, she moved her car and The Sisters got to go to the mall. But it was thirty-five minutes before Mrs. Hoffman and I were on our way to the Jefferson Place.

When I came into the kitchen, I found, instead of Gail, Prince Robi. He was in there every now and then, practicing his guitar in a room where nobody would think to check in on him. But there was no pattern to his visits. He just came whenever he felt like it, whether he was in the way or not, and we never knew when that would be.

He was sitting on a kitchen stool in front of the cabinets opposite the sink with his guitar in his hands and a pen was in his mouth, concentrating on a sheet of notebook paper on the floor in front of him. He looked up when I came in and gave me a half smile, then went back to staring at the paper.

"Where's Gail?" I asked him, unsure if he knew her name or if he called her something like "Food Room Lady" in his head.

He took the pen out of his mouth. "The linen room. You ran out of towels again."

"Oh." I didn't turn bright purple at the sight of him anymore, but I still hadn't mastered conversation. I wished I could be cooking something so I could pretend to be working too hard to talk to him. I spotted the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. I hadn't done too much washing since that first week, but it seemed like those crumbs had been sent by God. I turned on the water and smiled as the sound covered up the silence.

"Ever written a song before?" he asked, speaking loudly, over the running water.

"Uh…no. Music's not my thing." I picked up a plate and started scrubbing.

"Well, apparently it's not my thing either because I got nothing. The notes are there. That part was easy. These words aren't coming to me, though. I only have two lines down."

"Oh." I turned the water on a little higher.

"I'm missing something. Maybe I just need another perspective."

"Another perspective?" _Is he asking for my advice? __Really?_

"Yeah. It's kinda hard to _write_ about love when I've never actually _been_ in love, you know? So what do you think it is?"

I turned the water down just a tad. "Love?" I asked. "Pretty broad subject, don't you think?"

"I guess. But you must have _some_ insight. I mean, you're a girl, after all."

I put down the plate, which I still hadn't finished cleaning, and leaned against the sink. I wrinkled my nose, a sign that I was thinking. It annoyed The Sisters to no end. "I suppose it's about having a mainstay. Sounds like part of a ship, though, doesn't it?"

He smiled. "No. Go on."

"Hmmm. Well, a mainstay is your main support. It's something that's always there to lean on. I guess it's the same way with the person you love. When your life isn't going right, you can turn to them because they'll support you no matter what. And when you're with that person, you know there's no way you could ever live without them because they make you forget all the bad things that are happening to you. They make you feel like you're flying. Like you're soaring even though your feet never come off the ground."

When he just sat there staring at me, his head tilted to one side, blinking his eyes like he was trying to get something out of them, I knew I'd probably just said the dumbest thing ever.

I picked up another dish and started scrubbing it furiously. "Sorry," I muttered. "I've never been in love either. I just read about it in books and stuff."

"No, I liked it. It was…nice. I've just never heard you say so much before, Linen Room Girl. You surprised me."

I put down my plate and smiled. For once I didn't feel embarrassed or tongue tied or awkward. He smiled back. Then Gail came in carrying a pile of towels that was taller than her head. It was going to fall over at any moment and the clean linen would all be dirty once it hit the floor. I rushed over and took the top five. "About time you got here, Cyndi," she said, panting. I put them on the counter and looked over at Guitar Guy. He was in the same position I'd found him in, leaning over his piece of paper, scribbling and erasing and then scribbling some more. I sighed. There had been _something_ a moment ago. Something I couldn't quite put words to. Gail handed me a spoon and started babbling about lunch. _What ever__ it was, it's gone now._

**BREAK**

That night at dinner, a scary thing happened. I had just served up some grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for Elfie and me when Heike, who'd said she'd be late to dinner, came through the door with a man on her arm. He had the same frizzy blond hair, black cargo pants, and hard core rock band T-shirt as her. A smirk looked prematurely glued to his face, as if he was always laughing at the world because he was so much cooler than everything. And he walked with an air of arrogance about him like he knew he was good-looking

He pulled out a chair for Heike and then sat across from her in my empty seat.

"Uh-" I started to protest.

Heike cut me off. "Gosh, Cyndi. Just roll in the chair from the den and sit on that. Don't be such a baby. We have a guest, you know."

I rolled my eyes and went to get the chair from Dad's office. I rolled it to the head table and sat there, refusing to sit next to either one of The Sisters or this guy they brought home. "You didn't tell me we were having company," I said. "There's not enough."

Elfie stuck out her tongue and took a huge bite out of her sandwich. Heike's friend started slurping the soup in front of him, the soup that was supposed to be mine. The can said four servings, so I'd made four, as usual, but with this new guy, who apparently ate just as much as The Sisters, there didn't seem to be any chance of me getting to eat dinner tonight. My empty stomach growled.

"Who's this chick?" he asked with his mouth full of my grilled cheese sandwich.

"Oh," Heike explained, glaring over at me, "she's the uh…help. She cooks and cleans and all that good stuff, and we, being the generous girls we are, let her eat with us as if she were family. But she's so ungrateful. Just a ragamuffin orphan who was never taught any manners."

I gritted my teeth. "What?"

"You can go to bed right now, Cyndi, if you can't behave like a proper human being. Mike's a nice guy who deserves hospitality from you."

Mike grinned.

_These people are positively hopeless!_ "Well, maybe I'd rather go to bed at seven-thirty than sit here listening to you guys. Don't you think I've got better things to do with my time?"

"Tell us about your job at the thrift store, Mike," Heike said, tuning me out. "I love to hear about all those interesting customers."

"Sure. Then we can go up on the roof and throw empty beer bottles at car windows."

"Ugh!" I got up from my chair and went to bed when the sun was still out.

A loud crash and a siren woke me up that night. I'd been having a disturbing dream that Heike told the king of Orminia I was a less-than-human ragamuffin orphan who made grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner and the king made Prince Robi fire me. I sat up with a jolt, afraid my dream had come true and the cops were coming to take me to prison for lying about my job skills. But when my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized that I was in my room and that the sirens from outside weren't the cops at all. It was a car alarm.

Somebody screamed and two figures fell past my window and landed in the garden with a thud. I heard footsteps rushing up the front walk. A chill ran through me. _Burglars! My house is being robbed!_ I jumped out of bed and rummaged through my closet until I found my baseball bat. I hadn't played T-ball since second grade and I knew my grip on it was all wrong, but I rushed to the door anyway. I would whack those robbers like I could never whack that baseball. Who knew where Heike, Elfie, and Mike were. I'd showed them how much of a "help" I was! I threw open the door, raised my bat in the air, and… "You guys are idiots!"

Mike and Heike pushed me through the door, bat and all, and ran in after me, locking the door behind them. "What were you gonna do with _that_ thing?" Heike asked, panting.

"I thought you were robbers. I was going to defend myself. You scared the crap out of me! What were you doing out there?"

Mike pulled an empty beer bottle out of a plastic grocery bag. "Smashing car windows with these," he said as though it were the most normal way to spend your nights.

I shook my head. "That's vandalism. You can't throw glass bottles at people's cars. Our neighbors are going to call the cops, and then what?"

"And then you're going to tell that little Leisel von Trapp girl it was _you_," she poked me in the stomach.

I shoved her arm away. "That's insane! There is absolutely no way you can expect me to tell the Hoffmans that _I_ threw empty beer bottles at Will's girlfriend's car. Mrs. Hoffman will think I drink and vandalize the neighborhood and _then _who will take me to work?"

"We don't care. You're _going_ to tell them all that it was you."

"_Them all_? You mean you threw beer bottles at other cars too? Do you guys have brains? Are you nuts?"

"Shut up, Cyndi. We're not listening to you anymore. Are you going to tell them it was you or is that baseball bat gonna make a mark on your skull?"

I gripped my bat tighter and backed away. "You wouldn't dare."

Mike punched his left palm with his right fist.

"Wait," I said. "Just wait a second. All you have to do is smash your own car windows too."

They looked disgusted. "Who would smash their own car windows with a beer bottle?"

"Exactly. Nobody would smash their own windows, so if your windows are smashed in too, then the neighbors will figure somebody else did it. Now, Mike, you leave, and I'm going back to bed. Heike, go smash the windows of yours and Elfie's cars then go to bed too. In the morning, we'll act just as shocked as everyone else."

The next morning, we didn't need to do any acting. Elfie had slept through the whole thing, and when she went outside and saw the mess Heike had made of the cars, she was just as furious as Leisel, the Petersons, Mr. Sullivan, and those college students down the block the rest of the neighborhood called "the boom box twins" because nobody knew who they really were. People in the suburbs don't like people from the City, so our neighbors automatically blamed some rowdy city kids who must have been passing through to start up trouble at night.

**BREAK**

After that, Mike Mancini became a regular at our house. He was always eating my food, sitting on my couch, using my bathroom, and watching my TV. It was like having another Sister in the house. Once Heike gave him his own key, he was there every single day, sometimes even when The Sisters _weren't_ there. On days like that, I'd come home to find him watching "hott scrubs guy" with a smirk on his face and then stay in the kitchen until they got home. I wasn't sure where he lived and why Heike never went there with _him_ to spend the afternoon far, far way from me, but our house seemed to be the meeting place of choice. They hardly ever went on dates to restaurants or movies or clubs like normal couples did. Sometimes they went to parties at the house down the block where the college kids lived. I learned that they were twins named Joe and Moe who had a rock band called Meatless Mondays and that they were going to school for degrees in Russian literature. They each had three piercings on their faces connected by a chain. Joe had an eyebrow piercing and Moe didn't and that was the only way to tell the two apart. Almost every Saturday they got their band and college friends together and threw a party that shook my bedroom walls all the way from their house. Elfie always really liked to go because she had a thing for Moe, but Mike and Heike were such couch potatoes they hardly ever moved. It was probably the weirdest relationship I'd ever encountered. Yet, for some reason, it continued to work.

BREAK

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LysPotter and roxmysox55


	7. Fourth of July

_A&E/N: My (roxmysox55) first cliffie! It is a very tiny one, but I am proud of it. It's my baby. Yay!_

_LP: Let's all take a moment to savor this precious occurrence!_

_Okay. Moment over. Read the story!!_

_Chapter Seven:_** Fourth of July**

I was marinating steaks when Guitar Guy came in. It was the Fourth of July, a day that had meant absolutely nothing to him just the week before, but after I'd told Gail that between the newly arrived Germans I lived with and the Orminians I worked for, I wouldn't get to celebrate at all, she'd said we could barbeque today. The Jefferson Place had a lawn big enough to put up some picnic tables for the staff to eat on too. Gail wasn't a hotdogs-and-hamburgers kind of gal, so she'd set me to marinating steaks and pork chops and chicken with her own secret recipe while she got the grill going.

"Hey," he said, coming in with his guitar case in hand. Instead of heading right over to the cabinet to take out his stool and sit down, he stood behind me and looked over my shoulder at my work.

The heat rose to my face, having him so close, but I regained my composure before he noticed. "Hey," I returned, satisfied with the coolness of my voice.

He laughed. "You're bright purple again, Linen Room Girl."

"Uh…"

Guitar Guy kept laughing as he jumped up to sit on the counter next to the bowl I was working out of. He almost put his hand in it, but I moved it just in time. "Oops. Sorry."

I smiled nervously, thinking of what Gail would say if he'd stuck his hands in the marinade, or worse, spilt it all over the floor.

"What're you making?" he asked, taking an interest in cooking for the first time I could remember.

I brushed a little more onto a steak. "Well, it's a secret recipe," I explained. "Gail won't tell me what's in it, but it smells like some sort of barbeque sauce and honey and some sort of dressing too, I think."

"She sure is a good cook." He smiled. "Well, I guess she'd have to be to teach _you_ how."

I tried to keep from laughing. "Aren't you supposed to be over there playing your guitar and not over here bothering the girl who's cooking your food? I could spit in it, you know. That's what chefs do when someone makes them angry."

He stuck his tongue out at me and hopped down just as Gail came back in to take another platter out. "How's it coming in here?" she asked.

I finished with the steak I'd been brushing. "Good. Just three more steaks, two more breasts, and one more chop. And then we can eat, right?"

Gail sighed. "Just as I feared. We don't have enough, Cyndi. Can you run to the store for me and get more? I would go myself, but if I left you with the grill, you'd probably burn the house down while I'm gone."

I glanced at Prince Robi out of the corner of my eye to see if he was listening. He was scribbling on that piece of paper again. "I can't go," I said. "I can't drive, remember? And I don't think Mrs. Hoffman would like it if I called her up and asked her to take me."

Gail slapped herself on the forehead. "Right. Of course. Well…"

"I'll take you."

We both turned around to look at Guitar Guy. "Really?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. I'm pretty much here all day long doing those studies and I just about never go anywhere. I think they may have forgotten I even have a car. Sebastian would rather drive me around in his limo, but why be a passenger when you can drive yourself?"

I shrugged. "Okay."

**BREAK**

I've been through enough of those extremely uncomfortable, awkward, silent car rides with people who I didn't know well enough to strike up a good conversation with to know what to expect on that ride to the store with Guitar Guy. This time I wouldn't have a kitchen sink to hide behind. But I figured I owed to it him, since he'd made me such a nice, unexpected offer. So I prepared myself for the worst and focused on not turning bright purple again.

That day was full of surprises, though. And I was wrong.

"It used to be my uncle's car," Guitar Guy said as he opened the garage. Because it was behind the house and opened on West Street, I hadn't even noticed it before. The automatic door opened to reveal a forty-year-old, newly restored, bright red Mustang convertible. "I don't know much about cars, or much about slang in this country, but people tell me it kicks ass. I _think_ that's a compliment."

"Wow. It's great. I'm almost afraid to touch it."

"Well, you're gonna have to touch it to get in it. Come on."

Slowly and carefully, I opened the passenger door. If I bumped it against one of the boxes, I'd probably get sued by the whole country of Orminia. He laughed, swung open the door on his side, jumped in, and slammed the door. "I promise the country of Orminia won't sue you if you put a dent in the door," he said, reading my mind.

Tan leather surrounded me and shiny silver buttons winked in the sunlight. He pressed a button that moved the top down and a light breeze tousled my hair. I felt like I was in a music video when he started driving down the street. "It's like being in a music video. Or a car commercial at least. Nobody in the suburbs has something like this."

"Well, it runs great. I bet an old car like this would be a great one to learn on," Guitar Guy said, winking.

My eyes widened at the thought. "_Me_?"

"Is there anybody else in this car?"

My heart started racing with excitement. "You'd teach me how to drive this car? For real?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe if I thought you really wanted to. Your lack of enthusiasm just hasn't convinced me." Prince Robi broke out into a grin. "Whenever you want to. We'll just find an empty parking lot some time."

I nodded. "Thank you." I hated that I was sitting in a moving vehicle because I had the urge to jump up and down. "I'm like the only person I know who can't drive."

"Not for long. Hey, we're here." He pulled into the parking lot at the grocery store. "Do you want to just run in there really fast? It always takes forever to find a parking place somewhere like this on a holiday weekend and if I know Gail…"

"Yeah. Sure." _That car ride was like a normal car ride with someone I know. It's almost as if we're friends or something. _I took one last look at the guy in the kick-ass car as I walked through the automatic doors. _Yeah. Friends. I like that. _

It's amazing how many people barbeque on the Fourth of July. Half the town was in the refrigerated meat section, the other half was in the check out lines, and both halves had their cars parked in the parking lot.

As I was leaning over a freezer reading the labels on the different white meat chicken breast packets, I heard an all-too familiar voice beside me. "What sort of _idioten_ writes these nutritional facts? How well do they expect people to be able to read this language?"

I shook my head and moved over to inspect a package farther away. With any luck, they wouldn't notice me.

"Cyndi?"

I looked up. Heike and Elfie were standing there in their dark green Bob's Best Catering aprons and hairnets. "Hi."

Heike shoved the hamburger in my face. "You read this to us. What percent lean is this meat?"

"It's 70 lean. How much do you want?"

"That much is fine. We don't really care, since we're not the ones who'll be cooking it anyway. We decided we want a barbeque after all and not a pizza, so you have to skip your little thingy at work and come cook for us. Mike is coming over."

"But you already said you were ordering in and watching the Hoffmans' fireworks. I'm not canceling my plans for _that_."

"You have to. We are your legal gilligans and you have to do whatever we say. We want cheese burgers and hotdogs and you're going to make them for us."

I rolled my eyes at them. "No. I don't even know what a gilligan is, but tonight is a national holiday, which means I have the day off to do whatever I feel like. Plus, my friend, who drives a '66 Mustang convertible, is waiting outside for me. I gotta run. And the both of you would be better off with meat that's _a lot_ leaner than 70." I picked up my pile of meat, dropped it in the cart, and rushed to the self check out line. It felt good to give them a taste of their own medicine, even if I didn't get to have my big exit. I was in line for twenty minutes and The Sisters actually left before I did.

**BREAK**

It was after five by the time we got back, though we'd left a quarter after four, and by then the picnic tables were all set up on the lawn, the meat that we had was all grilled, and the head chef was at her wit's end. "Goodness gracious! Where _were_ you two?" she exclaimed as we came up the front walk, each carrying three or four plastic grocery bags.

"Everyone goes to the grocery store on the Fourth of July, apparently. Even The Sisters were there. They wanted me to skip tonight and go barbeque for them and Heike's boyfriend."

"Are you?" asked Guitar Guy, alarmed.

I smiled. "No. I told them it was a national holiday, so I could do whatever I wanted."

"Well," said Gail, relieving us each of bag and heading towards the kitchen, "that's fine with me just as long as whatever you want includes helping me finish up in the kitchen and getting these people fed."

"Of course."

"Need an extra hand?" Prince Robi asked, setting his bags on the kitchen counter.

Gail squinted at him as though a bright light were shining off his face, and then looked at me and shook her head. "Now, why you would want to do a thing like that is beyond me, Your Highness, but this here kitchen is no place for a prince, even when you're just strumming that guitar of yours. It's our job to feed you, not the other way around, and I'd think it'd be better if you just let us. Now you go ahead and head outside because all those people out there are just dying for you to go and sit by them. We'll be out later."

He started to protest, but then he sighed and walked away.

When he left, Gail took out a steak, handed me a meat mallet, and had me hammer it while she started up another batch of marinade. "You want to tell me why that boy's wanting to be around you so much?" she asked me.

I knew why I _wanted _him to want to be around me so much. The thought of having a friend who wanted to help me instead a glowering pest hovering around me ordering to do things for them was such a relief! But I knew at the same time that he had only taken me to the store because he needed a break after being cooped up with his lessons most of the day, that he'd only offered to teach me how to drive to show off his kick ass car, and that he was only in the kitchen so much because it was the only place to practice his guitar without being noticed. It would just be wrong to think that that was actually some sort of friendship. I shrugged. "I don't know."

She smiled to herself but said nothing more. I got back to hammering the steaks with a meat mallet. It's funny how working long enough in a kitchen, repeating the same steps over and over again, can make you forget whatever it was you were worrying about before. When you have to concentrate on not smashing your fingers with hard metal spikes, you find yourself concentrating a little less on the strange relationship you have with the prince of Orminia.

By six, we were ready. The laundresses, servants, maids, Szylveszter, Sebastian, the security guards, the plumber who had just gotten done fixing the bathroom sink, Gail and I, and Prince Robi all crowded outside to eat the food that had taken at least an hour longer than it should have to make. It was good, though. Mine and Gail's cooking at the finest, as always. Guitar Guy had done exactly what Gail had told him to do, and he was sitting at the far end of a picnic table at the other end of the lawn between Seb and Szyl, gabbing with every single security guard. I was stuck with the maids and laundresses, some of which had come all the way from Orminia with the prince, and all of which talked too much for their own good. They gossiped in two languages and broke out into screeching laughter. They looked at me when I didn't giggle along with them and I knew I would be the object of their ceaseless gossip the next day. If all these girls worked alongside each other, it was a wonder any work got done at all.

By eight o'clock, everyone had finished eating the chocolate cake Gail made for dessert, and were more than ready for the fireworks. The security guards had gotten loads of them, at my request, and were setting them up behind the fence. I took two folding chairs, the really crummy cloth ones that stand on triangular legs you know will collapse at any moment, out of Gail's trunk and put them up front to get a good view. Just as I sat down, a huge explosion nearly jolted me out of my seat and the sky filled with the glittering lights of a firework. Nobody can ever be prepared for that very first one. It grabs the attention of every single person, no matter how involved in conversation they were just a second before, and even the dumb girls who'd been gossiping for hours stopped and stared at it in silence. Another one followed then, and then another, and by then everyone was staring in amazement and oohing and awing subconsciously.

"Is this seat taken?"

The sound of Guitar Guy's voice behind me startled me just as much as the first firework. Nobody had said anything for the past five minutes at least. "Uh…" I searched the tables behind us for Gail, and found her sitting beside Sebastian and Szylvezster, gazing up the fireworks with her mouth wide open. A plate of untouched food was in front of her. She'd spent so much time serving others, she hadn't had a chance to eat herself yet. Gail wouldn't be over for a while, if at all. "No."

He smiled and sat in the folding chair next to mine. "You do this every year?" he asked over the blasts.

"Yeah! It wouldn't be any sort of July without it!"

He covered his ears. "It's pretty loud, though!"

"Well, yeah, but it _is_ beautiful!"

Guitar Guy looked at me and smiled. "Yeah," he said, "kinda like you."

Or at least that's what I _think_ he said . It was right in the middle of another explosion, but he wasn't yelling like he had been before. He might have said "like you" or he might have said "achoo." So that's why I said, "Bless you!"

"Huh?"

_Oh. _I blushed. "Nothing! I mean, uh, thank you!" I reached over to rest my arm on the black, hard plastic armrest, but instinctively moved it when I when I felt his arm beneath mine. My whole armed tingled as I quickly placed it back in my lap. I was afraid to look back and see his response, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw him shift in his chair and rest his hands on his knees. Something came over me then; I don't know what. I was caught in the spur of the moment, I guess, and still feeling warm and fuzzy from his touch and his complement. Slowly, I moved my arm over both arm rests, and placed my hand over his. He flinched out of surprise, but he didn't move his hand. Finally, our eyes met. His were a deep brown that shown with all the colors of the fireworks above our heads and then some. I'd never been so close to him before. My heart was pounding. I was probably the brightest shade of purple that I'd ever been, the color people turned when they were holding their breath, which I was. My stomach was doing flips. I knew that if I looked at my watch, barely a minute would have gone by, but it felt like that exact moment had lasted forever.

In that moment, I knew he was going to kiss me. No one had ever kissed me before. No one had ever held my hand the way he was or looked into my eyes the way he was. It was really scary, but in a good way. We leaned towards each other, ever so slowly. I knew he was just as nervous as I was.

Then another firework went off. It shot up in the air, squealing and squeaking for all it was worth, as if it wanted to burst my ear drums. It exploded with an intensified boom. The girls behind us screeched in fright. I jumped, and just like that, the chair's crummy plastic, triangular legs, slid towards each other, causing the chair to fold in on itself. Before I could get my feet back on the ground, I fell backwards right along with it. I found myself flat on my back, stuck in the dumb thing. I could hardly move at all. Prince Robi quickly jumped out of his own chair, which he just barely saved from folding in on himself, and reached down to pull me out of it. He struggled, but he finally did.

"God, Linen Room Girl," he said, laughing.

I laughed too, even though my legs and shoulders stung. He helped me straighten the chairs out again, but that screeching firework had been the big finale. There were no more left, and by now everyone was throwing away their paper plates and paper cups and heading inside.

"Cyndi!" Gail called me over to help her clean up.

"Coming!" I called. I looked back at Prince Robi, having absolutely no clue what to say to him. Time had paused for us a minute ago. I'd completely fled reality. It was just me and Guitar Guy in our own little world with fireworks illuminating the dark summer sky around us. Now we were back and I wanted to escape more than anything, but the chance was gone. It had fled when the firework went off and the chair folded in on me, and I had no idea how to get it back. "Uh…see ya."

He offered me a sad excuse for a smile. "Yeah. Happy Independence Day."

"Thanks. You too."

"Cyndi!"

BREAK

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	8. The Letter

_A/N: Did you notice that my cliffie was not a cliffie at all? Sorry. I tried. You'll move on. Read my chapter. _

_(E/N: It was a cliffie kiss. Are you hanging on the edge of your seat? I am. Guitar Guy and Linen Room Girl, by virtue of their odd names, are meant for each other!)_

_Chapter Eight: _**The Letter**

A week later, a letter arrived from Orminia. There were rumors all over the place as to what it said and who it was from. Some said it was from his amazingly gorgeous European girlfriend who was the richest woman in Hungary. She had written to tell him she was going to have his child and needed him home immediately. Others were certain it was from a dying father who was leaving Robi the entire kingdom. Still, others claimed it was from his disappointed parents that had heard too many rumors about their son's failures in the United States and were coming to take him back with them because they couldn't stand it a minute longer. To welcome the king and queen, there would be an incredible ball like no other in which all the courtiers in Orminia would come and compete for the prince's hand in marriage. All of them seemed a little too over the top to me. Unless he'd been sent the script of one of The Sisters' soap operas, I doubted it was more than a little letter from home. I sure hoped he didn't have a pregnant Hungarian girlfriend or a dying father. The last one seemed the most likely. After the way Szylvezster had gone on and on about Guitar Guy's guitar, it wouldn't have surprised me. But were courtiers from Orminia really coming to compete for his hand? I wondered how young they got married in Eastern Europe.

The easiest way to discover the truth, I knew, was to just go ahead and ask Prince Robi about it, but since the barbeque I hadn't seen him once. I wasn't sure if he was deliberately avoiding me  in house this big it wouldn't be that hard or if, like me, he didn't know what to say after the Fourth of July almost kissing thing. Though there still was no pattern to his visits, he'd been coming more and more frequently. It had been a while since he'd stayed away _this_ long. I figured there must be _something_ wrong. Maybe something that had to do with the letter. But whatever it was that the letter said, I certainly didn't have the guts to go up to his room and ask him, and I certainly didn't think I could offer any sort of comfort if he was upset. I worked around the kitchen to ease my nerves, but I couldn't help from biting my nails and then fretting over whether the chewed-off ends were falling into the food.

They were settled to some extent that Saturday when Szylvezster came into the kitchen to talk to us. He said it was extremely important and that it would be our chance to prove ourselves as chefs. "You've heard of the letter, I take it?" He glared at me accusingly as he said it, as though he thought I'd started all those rumors about it. "Well, it was from the king and queen. They're coming here to this house in just a few weeks and we must throw a welcoming ball for them. It's the proper custom, you see. Not only will they be coming, but so will their entire entourage. Two hundred courtiers will be arriving along with them. And of course, we'll be expected to feed them all."

Gail nodded. "I've served for crowds bigger than that. What kind of food are we talking, Szyl?"

"Orminian food. I know you haven't had a whole lot of experience with it, but I'll get you a cook book. You can cook anything, Gail."

She shrugged. "That's true. But Cyndi and I can't do it on our own. We'll need help."

"Uh…"

"Bob's Best," I said. "Beth and Jimmy and everyone else at my dad's old catering business will help us if we ask them, I bet."

Szylvezster thought for a minute. "Alright. If you guys need extra help, it's fine with me. There's money in the budget to pay them. So you'll be able to do it then, right?"

"Sure," said Gail, "we'll do it. With Beth O'Brien helping us, we'll get it done in half the time, too."

_So it's true_, I realized after Szyl left. _His parents are coming, we're throwing them a ball, and all the girls in the Orminian Court are coming too. _It was almost too much. For once, what the maids were saying was more than a rumor. In just a couple of weeks, Guitar Guy would actually choose himself a wife and head back home. _And that's why he's been avoiding me this past week. _The thought of a loss hits you so much worse when the person you're losing was never really yours to begin with.

"Cyndi?" Gail asked, worried. "What's wrong, hon? You sick or something?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm fine. Really. It's just…I don't know. His parents are coming after all? The maids were right about what that letter said?"

She studied me for a minute. "I guess so. That's what Szyl said, and I sure hope he was right. Or else we'll end up cooking for nobody. But what's that got to do with anything?"

Oh no. I'd just given too much away. "Well, Szyl said the whole court's coming, and according to what the maids said is in that letter…"

She smiled knowingly. "Cyndi, I think you ought to talk to him about this. There's a reason he hasn't been around for ten days, isn't there? And it has to do with you and that letter, doesn't it?"

I didn't answer. I turned away from her glance and started stirring the pot of chili on the stove.

Gail came and stood beside me. "What's going on between the two of you, Cyndi?"

I looked at the chili as I answered, rather than at her. "Nothing," I answered truthfully. "There were moments when I thought there could have been something, but I guess all that's over now, whatever it was."

"Maybe it wouldn't be if you told him how you feel. You two ever think of actually communicating with each other?" She took the spoon out of my hand.

I shook my head. "I can't," I said. "You know that his parents are coming because Szyl sent them reports they didn't approve of. With all the rumors that have been circulating, you know they've heard about _me_, and Guitar Guy's so concerned about what his parents think that he hides his guitar in the kitchen cabinets. I'm not going to say anything."

"I think you're making a huge mistake, Cyn. If I were you, I'd go to that ball myself and show him what he's missing."

That got my attention. I finally turned away from the stove and faced her. "What?"

She laughed. "Don't look so surprised. You already have a lead over those other girls, don't you? Put on a pretty dress, swirl around with him to some of that emotional, slow country music, and you have it made."

"He won't want to dance with me, Gail. Next to all those girls, I'll stick out like a sore thumb. And with his parents watching us the whole time, I'd turn bright purple, freeze up, and embarrass the both of us in front of Orminian royalty. What's the point?"

"You already told me the point. I've seen you together. You guys click. I'd hate to see that all go to waste because you'd blush in front of some judgmental monarchy, wouldn't you?"

I tried to disagree with her, but she was making so much sense. "Well…"

She knew she was winning, and she kept going. "What if you went in disguise? What if you snuck in there, looked amazing, won him over, and _then_ told him who you really were? No one would be the wiser. To the king and queen, you'd just be the beautiful, mysterious girl who somehow got in without ever being invited."

"You mean I should _trick_ him into falling for me?"

"I wouldn't call it tricking. It's really more of an eye-opener. He's already fallen for you, Cyndi, I know it. He just got sidetracked a little. All you have to do is show him all over again how great you are. If you have to shock him a little, then you have to shock a little."

I knew it wasn't right. If ever there had been a wrong way to get a guy to notice you, it was this. But when I thought about his reluctance to come back into the kitchen, I wondered what other way there was. The moment he met one of the gorgeous, dark haired, dark skinned girls with titles, millions, Mustangs even older than his, and, above all, his parents' approval, I'd be out of the picture for good. If Gail was right, and I'd already won him over, then maybe it would work after all. "I guess it wouldn't hurt."

"That's more like it."

But then I had a new worry. The Sisters hadn't spent a dime on me since I'd known them and I spent my whole salary and groceries. The clothes I had now were the clothes I'd had when Dad was alive. I hadn't gotten anything new since, so it was good that I wasn't growing anymore. "What am I supposed to wear?"

Gail didn't look afraid for a half a second. "Leave that to me."

**BREAK**

The next Saturday, when I got home from work, I opened the door and The Sisters and Mike trooped right out. Heike and Elfie had their purses in hand, which could only mean one thing: pawn shopping. I'd obviously gotten home at the wrong time. "Hey, look, it's Candy," said Mike, who pretended he could never remember my name to annoy me. He continued to do it even though I'd stopped reacting weeks ago. "You two thinking what I'm thinking?"

Elfie laughed.

"Yeah," said Heike, "Why pay for things ourselves when we can drag her with us and make _her_ pay for 'em?"

"Yeah," said Elfie.

"What?"

Heike reached out, grabbed my purse, and held it above her head. She was one of the few girls I knew who was taller than me. I couldn't reach it, even on my tiptoes.

"Now, we can take the purse but not you or we can take the purse _and_ you, but either way, you're paying for the stuff we buy."

Mike poked me in the stomach. "And as long as you aren't there, we might as well splurge."

_AAAHHHHH!!!! _"Fine. You guys are such babies. Give me back my purse."

Heike threw it over my head so that it landed in the grass. "Fetch!"

It was pointless to argue with these idiots. My intelligence level was so far above their's it was impossible to reason with them. I went and got my purse with all the dignity one can when they are told to "fetch" and got in the back seat of Mike's station wagon. The speakers were right behind my head and my teeth rattled from the force of the German punk rock music they listened to all the way there and all the way back. The pawn shop was a tiny store on the corner of Third Street downtown called "Esey Byes." It smelled like cigarette smoke and the music blasting from the gigantic sound system sounded just as bad in English as it did in German. The place was cluttered with musical instruments, jewelry, tools, TVs, VCRs, radios, CDs, movies, furniture, vacuums, and computers. The three of them touched every single item in their view, exclaiming over everything as they went. "That stereo is dirty." "I have that movie." "What a good CD." "What a piece of junk." "I wonder who had this last." "How much for this?" "I wished I played the flute!" "_Was ist dies?_"

I rolled my eyes and stood by the door, counting the seconds until we could leave. "Can I help you, miss?" A man in a green shirt and spiky hair with too much gel in it came up to me.

"Uh…no. I'm just looking."

"Well," the salesman continued, "anything catching your eye?"

I took a quick, disinterested glance around the store. "No, not really. I'm not looking for anything in particular."

The guy stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heals. "This would be the very place to come when you're not searching for anything special. We have all kinds of stuff. One man's trash is another man's treasure. That's our motto here. If you just pick up some random thing, it could be a treasure you'll fall in love with."

_I doubt it. _"Okay. Like what?"

He looked down at my feet. "I think I've got something in the back that'll interest you." He ran off to the check out counter and opened a door behind it. When he returned, he was carrying a closed, cardboard shoebox. "They've been here forever. In fact, we've had them so long, no one can even remember who brought them in in the first place. They were out here for a while, but nobody's feet could fit into them. People thought they would be wasting their money because as soon as they stuck their foot inside, the shoe would shatter into a million pieces. We took them off the shelves because we couldn't sell them. I'll give them to you for free if you're willing to try them on." He lifted the lid to uncover the most beautiful pair of shoes I'd ever seen. Though shaped just like all the other pumps in my closet, with a pointed toe, thin, triangular heels, and slanted soul, these shoes weren't made of leather, threads, and plastic. They were made of clear, flawless, sparkling, shining glass!

"Oh! They're made of…of…of…."

He laughed. "Glass, that's right. Never have I seen a thing like it, have you?" He lifted one out very carefully. "Here, try it on."

I took it from him gently and slipped off my bright pink flip-flops. I bent down and slowly placed my foot inside. I cautiously wriggled my toes into it, sure it would break the moment I put any weight on it. But not a single crack ran through it as I began to stand. It was like wearing any other shoe, only a little stiffer and a little colder. I smiled nervously and took the other shoe from the salesman. The second shoe fit just as perfectly as the first one. It was as if the pair of shoes had been molded to fit my feet. The heels held up just fine as I took a couple of steps. "It's like magic," I said, noticeably awestruck.

"Wow. You're right."

**BREAK**

Szyl brought us a stack of Orminian cook books to look through on Monday. There was some weird stuff in there. Most dishes were centered around vegetables and spices that I'd never tried like fennels and berbere. They ate a lot of smoked fish and breaded baked chicken too. Nothing was as simple as frozen lasagna. Gail and I spent the next three days taste testing different menus. Some things, like the grilled chicken salad with rosemary sauce, worked out fine. Other things, like the pheasant fish soup, took a few tries to get right.

The menu we finally decided on was potato soup, deep fried mushrooms, beef in onion sauce, cheese salad, and layered caramel torte. It was going to be a job to serve a five course meal to 200 people, but Beth and Jimmy could do absolutely anything, and it was a relief to know that they'd be coming too. Szylvezster approved of it, so we set to work buying all the supplies we would need. Gail insisted on trying each dish over and over again to make sure it would be at the height of perfection the night of the ball. She'd obviously taken it seriously when Szyl told her it would be her chance to prove herself as a chef. I'm also pretty sure she cared more about what the king and queen of Orminia would think than she let on.

I have to say I fretted over the ball even more than she did. I hadn't seen Prince Robi in two weeks. It was so unlike him, I knew the only explanation for it was that he was avoiding me to prove a point to Szyl and his parents. The only difference was that he couldn't very well hide me in a kitchen cabinet. Why would all that change because he danced with me at a ball? I didn't think it would. Gail seemed confident, however, and even excited about it, so I kept these fears to myself.

BREAK

A/N:

Finding the glass slippers at a pawn shop was my brilliant, pawn-shop-loving father's idea. I can't take credit because I hate pawn shops with a passion.

Review!


	9. Ball

_E/N: Fundamental Cinderella story chapter! But I love it and find it ALMOST original!! Which is a big deal in the realm of Cinderella stories!_

_A/N: Thanks. I guess. _

_Chapter Nine: _**Ball**

A week before the ball, Gail came into the kitchen carrying a bulging garment bag above her head so the bottom of it wouldn't drag on the floor. "Do you know what this is?" she asked me, a little out of breath.

_My dress! My dress! My dress! _"No. What is it?"

"Well, close your eyes."

I did. I heard her laying the bag on the counter, unzipping it, and carefully taking something out of it. Something soft and silky brushed against my shoulder.

"Okay. You can open them."

As I opened my eyes, I was so shocked by what I saw that I gasped and took a step backwards. Tears stung the corners of my eyes. "Gail…"

She smiled.

The dress she held up was made of delicate rose silk that swished and shined in the morning light. The wide skirt showered down from the waist line of the pink, sleeveless bodice and rustled along the floor ever so slightly. It was straight out of a fairytale.

"It's…beautiful," I said, finally. "Thank you."

Gail preened. "I sure hope this thing fits you, hon. Why don't you go and try it on?"

"Here?

"Well, in the bathroom, of course."

She handed it to me and I rushed into the third room on the left. As I stepped into it and zipped up the back, I felt like I was wearing a dream. As I twirled in a circle along the bathroom floor, it felt as though I were floating. The gown swished along with me as I glided and I never wanted to take it off. For the first time since Gail had come up with the idea, I thought that maybe, now that I had a spectacular dress, I could really show up at the ball without making an utter fool of myself and failing at what I'd set out to do. Then someone knocked on the door. "Is someone in here?" he shouted.

I sighed. There comes a time when everyone must wakeup from their dreams. "Yeah. One sec!" Reluctantly, I unzipped the dress and stepped out of it. I put back on my jeans, T-shirt, dirty apron, and sneakers. I gingerly picked the gown up off the floor and carried it back to the kitchen. I knew the man was staring at me as he walked into the bathroom.

Back in the kitchen, I threw my arms around Gail's neck. "Oh, it's the most wonderful, extraordinary dress ever!"

"And it fits you?"

"Like a dream, Gail. And you didn't even measure me."

"Well, I had a pretty good idea of the measurements." She picked up her tote bag, which she carried everywhere, and fished out a pink sequenced eye mask and a box of dark brown hair dye. "And now for the finishing touches," Gail said, pulling the mask over my forehead. "With your dark hair you'll blend in, and with you eye mask, you'll stand out. You will be the most beautiful, fashionable, mysterious girl there."

I turned the hair dye box over anxiously in my hands, looking at the gorgeous, laughing Latina woman on the front and the warning labels on the back. "Dye my hair?" I asked.

She sighed. "It's a pity, I know. People would kill for such beautiful blond curls like yours. But I made sure not to get the permanent stuff. Just think of it as a way to complete the ensemble."

The more and more she planned it out and the more and more determined she became, the more and more unconvinced I was that it would work. "I'm really doing this, aren't I?"

"That's right. And you can do it, Cyndi. Believe me."

**BREAK**

July twenty-fifth, the night of the ball, came sooner than I'd expected. I certainly hadn't forgotten the date or the time, but I took comfort from the fact that it was weeks, or at least days, away. Quicker than I'd thought it would, the day crept up on me. Now it was here.

Two hours before it started, and after being reminded by Gail at least a hundred times that I had to leave with the rest of the kitchen staff by midnight (she wasn't driving me home any later), I took my bundle of a dress, my magic shoes, my bottle of hair dye, and my makeup backpack (I had too much makeup and hair stuff to put in one of those see-through plastic makeup bags). If that shouty guy showed up again, he would just have to wait his turn. It was easiest to crash a ball if you were already there when it started and you didn't have to sneak in through the front door. All I had to do was get ready and run into the ballroom unnoticed.

I had my doubts about dying my hair. If Guitar Guy just passed over me because I _didn't_ stick out like a sore thumb, wasn't that just as bad as if I did stick out and he deliberately kept his distance? But if the only difference between having his arms around me and having his arms around another girl was the color of my hair, I was willing to give it up. I put on the cheapy plastic gloves and squirted the bottle of brown dye, which looked more purple than brown, all over my head. I waited ten minutes and then got in the shower and washed it with the special conditioner. After blow drying my hair, I looked at my new locks in the mirror. I hardly recognized myself. After I curled my hair and put on that gorgeous dress, those magic shoes, and that pink mask that covered my forehead, nose, and cheeks, I looked like a completely different person. It was kind of scary.

_But that's the point, _I reminded myself. _You don't want to look anything like Cynthia Ann __Moretti__. Tonight you're somebody else. _

My first task as the new and improved Cyndi was to make my way into the ballroom without being noticed by anyone, especially not by The Sisters, who came with Beth and Jimmy and the other caterers from Bob's Best to help Gail.It just so happened, however, that I didn't make it passed the bathroom door. Suddenly, as someone opened it from the outside, I was so surprise surprise, I dropped the clothes I'd changed out of, my sneakers, my apron, and my makeup bag, which was open. The contents scattered all over the carpet. A lipstick cap rolled off and the stick made a mark on her right shoe. I knew who it would be, though I was afraid to look up from her stained tennis shoe. Heike howled as if I'd just slapped her in the face. "You bitch!" she screamed. "Who do you think you are?"

_Shit. _

I tried to bend down to pick it all up, but I couldn't move at all in that gown. Finally, I gave up. Heike sighed angrily, picked up my clothes, and threw them at me. The name tag on my apron, which was magnetic, hit against my wrist watch, and tumbled off. That was probably the worst thing that could have happened at that moment. It hit the floor face up and I knew the second Heike had read it by the change in her expression. I was surprised that steam wasn't coming out of her ears. "_CYNDI!!_" she screeched.

I found a way to move. I bent down, grabbed my name tag, and headed down the hall all in one swift motion. As I raced past the dining room entrance, I collided, face first, with Elfie, and the two of us fell flat on our backs. I could feel a huge welt forming on my forehead. This was not my night. Without a word of apology to Elfie, who was still flat on her back, I jumped up and ran into the ballroom, hoping there were enough people there for me to get lost in a crowd because it wasn't good to anger both Sisters in one night. Thankfully, I got there all in one piece. I smoothed out my hair and my dress and walked in slowly, afraid I might start hobbling if I tried to walk any faster. My shoes, miraculously, had held up and stayed on my feet, and my dress hadn't ripped. Maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright. I was momentarily awestruck by the captivating beauty of the ballroom. There were at least five chandeliers above my head, if not more. The glittering lights of a thousand bulbs danced across the newly waxed floors. Bright colored banners and balloons hung from the ceiling. Women in beautiful, wide skirts shined as they spun around the room with their handsome Orminian escorts. Girls, hung with sparkling jewels, waited on the walls for another dancing partner and men stood talking together in their tuxedos at the punch bowl. King Istvan and Queen Zsuzsanna Euphorzina sat on a raised platform in the back corner of the room in red velvet backed chairs, clapping their hands after every song, whispering to servants who came up to them, and waving to their favorite courtiers. To my dismay, however, though I searched and searched, I couldn't find the man of the hour anywhere.

So, slowly, and glad that I was surrounded by Orminians, I made my way over to where the girls in the jewels were standing and stood with my back up against the wall. The lady in the blue dress standing next to me muttered something to me in Orminian, which sounded like a mix between German, French, and Russian, but because all I knew was the word for "idiot" in German, I didn't exactly catch it. It didn't really matter exactly what she told me, though, because I understood it in the next second. As soon as she'd said it, I looked up and spotted Guitar Guy, who walking into the room in a black tux, red bowtie, and a red cummerbund. It was a look that was hard to pull off unless you were an Asian cellist, but he was so handsome it didn't matter. He came into the room looking around him anxiously for something or someone and continued to search the groups of dancing couples and the girls lined up against the walls for whatever it was. For just a moment, his eyes held mine, and I thought my heart would burst. But he passed over me in an instant.

Szylveszter, who was always somewhere close by, came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He whispered something in the Prince's ear. Everyone in the ballroom strained to hear what it was he said. Prince Robi whispered something back. Then Szyl looked around the room and shrugged. They continued with their whispered conversation. The butler was trying to get a point across to Guitar Guy, but he wouldn't cooperate. I could tell by their faces that they were arguing about something, but what it was, I couldn't tell. Finally, Szyl stomped his foot impatiently and pointed right at me. The dancing couples moved out of the way as if they were the Red Sea and Szylvezster was Moses.

_Szylvezster__ knows who I am_. The thought turned me bright purple all the way from my neck to my forehead, a signature trait of Cyndi Moretti. I had no doubt Szyl had just pointed this out to Robi, who would definitely want nothing more than to move on to somebody else, somebody he hadn't spent the past weeks trying to avoid . The best thing to do was get out of there immediately, before I made more of a fool of myself. Everyone in the entire room had their eyes on me, so it wouldn't be an easy escape, but if I never, ever came back, at least I wouldn't have to face their whispers for the rest of my life. I had just made up my mind to make a mad dash through the closest door, when, because I was staring at the floor to avoid eye contact with anyone, I found myself staring at the shiny black dress shoes of Guitar Guy. _This is it_, I told myself. Whether _it_ was total failure or the incredible dance I'd long dreamt of, I wasn't sure, but whatever _it _was, _it _was happening now.

He cleared his throat and slowly, nervously, I faced him. There were only a few other times I'd been so close to him. The heat rose to my face as I remembered them. "You want to uh…dance? With me?" he asked. I couldn't think of a time when his voice hadn't sounded confident and sure. Was it possible that having so many eyes on him made him nervous as well?

I couldn't help but wonder what had just happened. Did he not know who I was after all? Had Szyl and him been whispering to each other about something else? I didn't dare to think that he knew who I was, didn't care, and wanted to dance with me no matter what anyone thought. Abruptly, I realized I hadn't answered. I smiled, trying to look more at ease than I really felt. "Sure."

He took my hands carefully in his, just the way he had on the Fourth of July, and I could see the glowing, glimmering lights of the fireworks all over again at his touch. We stepped onto the dance floor, and the musicians and dancers, who'd stopped out of curiosity to watch the two of us for the past five minutes, started up again. My dancing skills were ordinary and his were less than perfect, but we glided along the floor with as much agility as we could muster. The fact that my legs were shaking uncontrollably and his eyes were constantly darting around the room, searching for whatever it was he hadn't found yet, didn't help much, of course.

Finally, he eased the tension by attempting to strike up a conversation. "Hi."

"Uh…hi." When I was just speaking one syllable words, it was hard to tell if my fake accent sounded convincing enough.

"What's your name?"

My heart filled to the brim with relief. _HE DOESN'T KNOW!!!_ My relief disappeared quickly. _What's my name? _"Uh…Ili," I lied. That was one of the laundresses' names. I thought she was Orminian, but I wasn't sure. "Ilona Schmidt."

"Robi," he said.

I laughed. "I sorta knew that already."

He looked a little more comfortable then. "Your shoes…Are they made of um…"

I smiled. "Glass? Yeah."

"Wow. That's impressive. Where do you find shoes like that?"

For some reason, I doubted Orminian girls shopped at pawn shops. A royal girl in a gown like mine at a ball like this one probably would have a million servants to run out and get her anything she asked for whenever she wanted it. And yet, for some reason, I knew something so impersonal wouldn't impress Robi at all. "My fairy godmother." I said.

He laughed that same musical, wonderful laugh that he had. "Right. And the dress too?"

"Yep. It all appeared magically."

"Oh I see. And how did you get here? In a magical carriage, I suppose?"

"Yes, in fact. My godmother turned an enormous pumpkin into stagecoach."

"Wow. And let me guess. She turned rats into horses for you?"

I smiled, enjoying this far too much. "Well, of course. And my footman used to be a mouse."

He smiled and shook his head. "Sorry if I seem distracted tonight. I was looking for somebody, but I'm starting to think they're not here."

My plan would never work if he really wanted to be dancing with someone else. How could I make him fall for me then? "Oh," I said, trying to hide my disappointment. "Who?"

"A girl I know." He sighed. "But I guess she's not around. I'd be able to find in _her_ in an instant if she was."

It was useless. He'd come here expecting somebody extraordinary and ended up with a girl who told corny jokes about fairy godmothers. He wasn't paying as much attention to me as he was before. If I told him who I really was right now, would it even make a difference? Would he even care at all? Even I knew I looked beautiful tonight, but he would have passed right over me if it hadn't been for Szylvezster, who pointed me out for some reason I didn't quite know. Next to the amazing Orminian girl who Prince Robi was so desperate to see, neither Ili nor Cyndi stood a chance.

_Then why am I here? If I don't matter to him as a mysterious __Orminian__ or as Cyndi __Moretti__, what am I doing? _He wouldn't fall head over heels for me. He wouldn't pick _me_ out of this room of Blue Dresses. Guitar Guy wasn't my friend and Prince Robi didn't love me. Tomorrow he would go back to Orminia with his parents and I would never see him again. People I had the most faith in rarely ended up sticking around. The ones I counted on disappeared. A few minutes ago I had let myself believe it might work, that he might care about me as much as I cared about him, but I was wrong. Tears stung the corners of my eyes and I knew I had to get out of there before I started balling in front Robi and all these other people.

Just then, right on queue, the song ended. Couples stopped dancing and clapped for the musicians. It was perfect. "Uh…Your Highness," I said, hurriedly, "I have to run. Is that alright with you?" I knew it would be.

"Huh? Did you say something?"

"Yeah. I said I have to run. You don't mind?"

"Oh. No, I guess not. It's sort of early to leave though, isn't it?" He looked at me really closely for a moment. "Are you okay?"

My eyes were brimming with tears, but I somehow kept them from spilling over. "I'm fine," I lied. "It's just that…my sisters are looking for me." I would have bet anything that was true.

He nodded. "Okay."

"Don't worry. You won't have any trouble trying to find another partner."

"Huh?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. Good-bye." _Forever._"Thanks for the dance."

BREAK

A/N:

Review.


	10. Mainstay

_A/N: I did not borrow a song for this chapter. See later author's note._

_Chapter Ten: _**Mainstay**

I was crying before I reached the bathroom. My vision was blurred and I was worried I might run into a pointy table edge or something, but luckily I made it all the way there without seriously injuring myself. I put down the seat of the toilet, sat down, and sobbed with my head in my hands. I didn't care that the bottom of my dress was touching the floor, which was filthy with who knows what. I took off my mask and threw it on the floor. Wiping off my runny mascara, I reached down to pull off my shoes. I realized suddenly that I was missing one. As I bolted out of the ballroom, nearly tripping several times as I ran, I must have lost it somewhere.

I didn't have the energy to go and search for it. I really didn't care. The shoes, the dress, the mask, and the hair had all been about impressing Guitar Guy, but _that_ didn't matter anymore. Though it was only 9:00, nowhere near midnight, I wanted nothing more than to go home right now and sleep forever. Maybe I wouldn't come to work tomorrow. Maybe I never would again. I had no desire to do so. I was, of course, too proud to admit that after tomorrow there wouldn't be a need for kitchen staff anymore. It wasn't like I was brave enough to tell Szylvezster that I quit.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, I brushed away the last of my tears, sniffled, and stood. I needed my hoodie at times like this. It was my security blanket, a present from my dad for my fourteenth birthday. The sleeves were getting a little short, but I would never get rid of it. It was in the kitchen with the rest of my clothes. Gail had moved them from the bathroom into the cabinets while I was at the ball. I didn't feel like facing Gail or The Sisters just then, but if it meant going home in my warm, fuzzy sweatshirt, it was worth it. Merely thinking about that and the fact that I would never have to see this miserable place again, comforted me just a little bit.

I walked swiftly down the hall and into the kitchen. It was crowded with caterers from Bob's Best, most of them people I didn't even know. My backpack and hoodie were in the cabinets under the sink. I bent down to get them and to my great disadvantage, Gail spotted me at that exact moment.

"Cyndi?"

I'd never wanted to be more invisible than at that moment. I actually thought about crawling into the cabinet to see if I could fit. Instead, I turned around, still squatting. "Yeah?" I asked hesitantly.

She put the pan she was holding aside and knelt beside. Gail rested her hand on my shoulder and took in my tear streaked face and shoeless foot. She didn't even ask me what had happen because she already knew. "I'm _so_ sorry, hon," she said, pulling me into her arms. "I thought for sure…"

I nodded. "I know. Me too."

"You wanna talk about it or no?"

"No, not really. I just wanna go home."

She smiled understandingly. "Beth'll cover for me, I bet. Let me just get my keys. You go ahead and change."

I ran into the bathroom, stepped out of my dress and shoe, and snuggled into my hoodie. When I got back into the kitchen, I was surprised to see Beth, Gail, Heike, Elfie, those caterers I didn't know, and that security guard who was always walking around with a walkie-talkie, all standing around a big, ugly vase on the counter. When Elfie spotted me she gasped and pointed. "That's her! Get her!"

I jumped. "What?"

Everybody turned to look at me.

"Can you can come over here for a minute, Miss Moretti?" the security guard, Frank Stevens according to his nametag, asked me.

Something in his tone told me that I shouldn't. I edged closer very slowly.

"Recognize this vase?" He held up the brown and white Orminian style vase that was on one of the tables in the hallway.

"Sorta."

"You want to tell me what this vase that you 'sorta' recognize was doing in your backpack?"

"_What?_"

Heike yanked me into the circle of people. "You _know_ you stole it, Cyndi. Confess."

"Why would I? What reason could I possibly have to shove that big, ugly vase into my backpack?

"This vase," Mr. Stevens informed me, tapping it, "is worth two point six _million_ dollars."

All the caterers gasped. I looked around the kitchen for _somebody_ on my side. Gail was turning bright red, but she didn't say anything. What was she so angry about?

"I didn't know that, I swear. And I didn't take that vase." I glared at Heike and Elfie. "I'll bet you anything someone _put _it there."

"Oh please, Cyndi," Heike said. "_We_ were in the kitchen the whole time, unlike _some_ people."

"Yeah," Elfie added. "Unlike her. She snuck into the ball, you know. Cyndi wasn't even on the guest list."

Mr. Stevens raised his eyebrows. "You weren't?"

This argument was not working out in my favor. I knew The Sisters took it, but I didn't have any proof. They, on the other hand, had plenty of proof against _me_.

"Well…no….but "

The guard laughed. "Riiiiiiihgt. Would you step outside with me, Cyndi?"

"Uh…"

Heike gave me shove and I tripped out the door after him. It hurt that no one was on my side. Nobody saw how completely obvious it was that The Sisters had done it and then pinned it on me. Heike was the one who was always searching for ways to get money without ever actually earning any, not me. And not even Gail had said a word in my defense. But as Mr. Stevens dragged me outside, I looked over my shoulder and Gail wasn't there.

**BREAK**

I didn't say a word on the ride home. The Sisters refused to ride home with a thief and nobody knew what had happened to Gail, so I'd called Mrs. Hoffman to come get me. My neighbor, unlike everyone else, didn't even question it. She knew I hadn't stolen a vase. She knew it was The Sisters. She kept trying to talk to me on the way home, saying things like, "Well, at least you just got fired and you weren't sent to jail," but I wouldn't respond. Tonight was the worst night of my life and I didn't want to discuss it with Mrs. Hoffman. She was too optimistic for her own good and it was starting to make me sick. No, I didn't want Mr. Stevens to take me downtown, but I didn't want to lose my job for theft, either. I was sure I would never, ever be able to get another job again with something like that on my record. Besides that, I would miss the job I already had terribly. I would miss Gail and the kitchen. I would miss the smells of the food we made and the empowerment I got from cooking a real meal. It was my dream come true, working there, and now I could never go back. True, I'd already been determined not to. I wouldn't even be needed anymore after tomorrow. But I hadn't quit. I'd been sent home, forced to leave. It was humiliating and embarrassing. I wanted nothing more than to go home and stay there forever. I would lock myself up like a hermit and from today forward I would never say another word again.

_It's just as well, _I thought. _Nobody listens to me anyway. _

"You want me to walk you inside, babe?"

I shook my head.

"You gonna be O.K.?"

I pasted on a fake smile.

"Well, alright. Call me if you need anything."

I nodded, walked up the steps to the house, went inside, and slammed the door shut behind me. The Sisters came home in a half an hour. They were laughing and carrying on and I thought I heard Mike's voice as well. But I was in bed, the covers pulled up over my head, wishing that I would fall asleep and dream up a happy day that was about a million times better than the sucky day I had. I didn't look at them or talk to them or anything. As far as I was concerned, they could all shove it.

**BREAK**

It must have been around two in the morning when the rock hit my window. At first I thought it was the dumbees throwing beer bottles again. It was only in the movies that hott guys threw rocks at the windows of girls at night to get their attention. It was too Leonardo diCaprio in _Romeo and Juliet_ to be happening to me. I sat up in bed the second time, though, and I actually saw it hit. Whoever it was, they would just have to deal with the fact that I had taken a vow of silence. I got out of bed, straightened my pajamas, tucked the loose hair behind my ears, and went to my window to meet Leonardo diCaprio.

I probably would have been less surprised to see a movie star outside my window than I was to see Guitar Guy. He was standing right down there, holding his guitar, waving wildly up at me with both arms. He looked so ridiculous that I had to suppress a smile. I tried to shove the window open. I pulled and pulled. I broke a nail and stubbed all ten of my ten fingers in my efforts, but I just couldn't make the thing budge. This had never happened to Juliet. "Wait," I told him stupidly. I realized too late that he obviously hadn't seen or heard me. I rushed down the stairs, through the living room, and out the front door.

He was laughing when I showed up. "Couldn't get that window open, eh?"

I smiled. "Well, I'm no Juliet."

"Huh? What's that got to do with anything?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"Oh."

We stood in awkward silence for a minute, listening to the crickets chirping around us.

"Did you want something?" I asked finally. It was getting kind of chilly outside in my shorts and tank top and if he was just coming to deliver some more bad news I really hoped he would just drop the bomb and get it over with because I wasn't in the mood for any more.

He knocked his fist against his head as if he was inserting memory into his brain with his knuckles. "Right. Well…Gail kind of told me some stuff."

_Oh no. _"What _kind_ of stuff?"

He smiled. "No need to get all freaked out about it, don't worry. _I'm_ the one that screwed up, not you. I guess we've just had some, uh…miscommunications."

_You think? _"Go on."

He nodded, obviously nervous and embarrassed. "You see, Cyndi, I wasn't ever avoiding you. I wouldn't do that. I would have been crazy to. I was at freshman orientation at NYU for two weeks and I told Szyl to tell you I'd be gone _and _to invite you to the ball tonight, but I'm guessing that you didn't get either message."

"You mean you weren't even there?"

"Yeah. Uh…I mean no. I wasn't."

It almost wasn't registering. _I'd been worrying over nothing? He just called me Cyndi for the first time ever? I think I'm gonna faint. _

"I looked for you the whole time, Cyndi. I didn't know he hadn't told you. I thought for sure you'd be there. I wanted you to be."

_OH!!!_ "_Me? _You were looking for _me_?"

He smiled. "Yeah. _Ili_."

I blushed. "Sorry about that. I just thought that…well, you know."

"Oh, and one more thing. I'm not leaving with my parents tomorrow. In fact, _they're_ not even leaving tomorrow. You heard some stuff from the maids and they like to make crap up to make their boring lives more interesting. But just to set the record straight, my parents are only here to visit me really quick before I start school and because it's sort of on the way to their summer home in Vail. They had like twelve already, but they just bought a new one. So, anyways, I wasn't choosing a bride or any nonsense like that." He laughed. "Even in Orminia, guys don't get married at seventeen. It's just not natural."

It was kind of embarrassing to hear the things I'd fretted over for the past three weeks being laughed at, but that was just because things _still_ weren't registering quite fast enough for me. What he was saying was putting a completely different spin on things.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine."

He looked just as confused as I knew I must have. "Cyndi, do you…? I mean, I…I'm…"

"What?"

Guitar Guy shook his head and picked up his guitar from where he'd set it on the grass. "Here," he said. "I'm getting absolutely nowhere by trying to _talk_ to you, so instead I guess I'll just have to s_ing_. Remember that song I was trying to write a month ago?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I finally finished it. Tonight." He cleared his throat. "Ah hem. Here goes." Robi took a beat up piece of notebook paper out of his pocket and set it on the ground at his feet. Then, looking down at it, he started to sing and play the guitar:

_"Sometimes I feel like the world is turning__Turning so fast that I can't keep up__And sometimes I feel like the sky is falling__And there's no way that I can make it stop. __I reach out to find something to hold onto __Something to keep me grounded so that I don't drop__And you--__You're my mainstay__Feel like I'm floating when I'm on the ground__Oh you--__You're my mainstay__Just keep on going when I know you're around__Sometimes I see the changes that are all around me__And I know things will change if I want it or not__Nothing quite feels the same way that it did before__The story of my life doesn't have any plot__I reach out to find something to hold onto__Something to keep me grounded so that I don't drop__And you--__You're my mainstay__Feel like I'm floating when I'm on the ground__Oh you--__You're my mainstay__Just keep on going when I know you're around__I reach out to find something to hold onto __Something to keep me grounded so that I don't drop."_

No, it wasn't fantastic. But it doesn't take much to impress me. It was heartfelt and beautiful. It meant something. When Guitar Guy sang me that song that was written for me, that was inspired by my own words, it was nothing like sitting in the car listening to the radio. It was so much more personal. I was filled with indescribable emotions from head to toe and before I knew it tears were trailing down my cheeks.

When he finished, he dropped his guitar and held his arms out to me. I ran into them, burying my tear streaked face in his windbreaker as if I hadn't just spent weeks convincing myself that nothing had ever existed between us or hours crying in the bathroom because I'd just lost him forever. It didn't matter anymore. None of it did now that I had his arms around me.

"I love you, Cyndi," he whispered into my hair.

I closed my eyes and drank in the moment, savoring it and loving it and never wanting it to end. "I love you too," I said. And he tilted my face towards his and kissed me. I don't know if it was just that I'd been waiting for it for so long, but at that moment, I could have sworn a million fireworks lit up the summer sky. A light breeze picked up and swept through my new chocolate girls, making me feel as wonderful and glowing as the beautiful Latina girl on the hair dye box.

BREAK

E/N: Cliffie kiss is officially RESOLVED. Applaud, please.

And WE are officially declaring that Mainstay (the song) ROCKS and is a REAL song. (We wrote it. It has music and everything.)

Leave roxmysox55 a review and tell her it ROCKS. The message will get to me.

Just kidding. You are under no obligation to tell us it rocked if you hate it.

Even though it's obvious you have no taste.

I'm done offending readers now. I think Sarah might like a chance to talk.

A/N: Ooookay... She gets carried away sometimes. There is only one thing left: an epilogue! You know you're excited. I am.

Review, please.


	11. Epilogue

A/N: If you've read all the chapters, thanks for sticking with us. We appreciate it.

_**Epilogue**_

Well, there you have it. Next time somebody asks you what happened once upon a frozen lasagna, you can recite this whole story for them. I think they'll be impressed. But you should know what happened after all this. It's not as dramatic, doesn't have as much dialogue, and it's almost too gushy for my taste, but it's important. It's the ever after part of the happily ever after.

I went back to work the next day, and every day after that. In the next two years, Gail taught me how to make just about every dish under the sun. I never bought another frozen lasagna again. I never made grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken noodle soup for lunch either, and I especially never made it for The Idiots. Robi gave them the dumb vase and sent them on their way. I think they moved to New York City because, believe it or not, I got an invitation to Mike and Heike's wedding with a NYC return address six months later. No, I didn't go. I haven't heard from them since and I really don't care to.

Sometimes I used to feel guilty about hating them so much since they took me under their wing when Dad and Hedwig died. I figured it was a random act of kindness that promised some sort of good deep down inside them. I spent half a year trying to catch a glimpse of that goodness, but I never did find any. That's probably because there wasn't any there. I found out recently, on my eighteenth birthday, that Dad left me $50,000 for college. I'd be dumb to doubt for even a second that The Sisters didn't know about it long before me. Those girls would do anything for money, I think, even become my "legal gilligans."

After the new millionaires were sent on their way to Manhattan, I got myself a real legal guardian. Gail adopted me five months later. She's a great mom, one who I strongly doubt will ever join the Peace Corps, so I'm not in the least bit worried. I still miss my dad a whole bunch, but since his death I've found a lot of things to fill the hole he left. I have my dream guy. I have Gail. I have my cooking. I couldn't ask for anything more.

Oh! And I almost forgot to mention the most exciting part. Next month I'm putting the fifty grand to good use by going off to culinary school in Paris. Bob Moretti would be proud of me. What makes for a better ending than that?

BREAK

A/N:

The End. There's a sequel. I might post it. I might not. We'll see.

E/N:

We are going to post it. She's just in denial.

A/N:

Whatevs. Bye!

REVIEW!


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